

Class _ 
Book _ 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


















LEFT TACKLE THAYER 




LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


By 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

AUTHOR OF “THE CRIMSON SWEATER,” “THE HALF-BACK,” 
“LEFT END EDWARDS,” ETC. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
CHARLES M. RELYEA 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1915 




COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 


SEP 22 1915 

//>v" 

© Ci. A 410 5 8 2 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I A NEW BOY AND AN OLD ONE . . 3 

II CAPTAIN INNES RECEIVES . . .18 

III AMY AIRS HIS VIEWS . . .31 

IV CLINT CUTS PRACTICE . . .42 

V ON THE SECOND . . . .53 

VI THE RUNAWAY WHEEL . . .65 

VII lost ! . . . . . .77 

VIII THE MYSTERIOUS AUTO . . .89 

IX UNDER SUSPICION .... 104 

X BURIED TREASURE .... 118 

XI BRIMFIELD MEETS DEFEAT . . . 129 

XII PENNY LOSES HIS TEMPER . . . 148 

XIII AMY WINS A CUP .... 163 

XIV THE TEAM TAKES REVENGE . . . 180 

XV A BRQKEN FIDDLE .... 196 

XVI AMY TAKES A HAND .... 210 

XVII A STRANGER INTERRUPTS . . . 223 

XVIII A RAID ON THE SECOND . . . 233 

XIX MR. DETWEILER INSTRUCTS . . 244 

XX Varsity vs. second team . . 259 

XXI THE LETTER THAT WASN’T WRITTEN . 270 

XXII DREER LOOKS ON ... 288 

XXIII CLINT HAS STAGE-FRIGHT . . . 297 

XXIV IN THE ENEMY’S COUNTRY . . 313 

XXV victory!.327 




6 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Victory . • • , . Fvontispiccc 

Now and Then They Spoke, but So Softly 

THAT THE BOYS COULD NOT HEAR WhAT 

Was Said.90 

“ Funny You Didn’t Make a Success of 

It!” Chuckled Clint . . • .170 

“ No, He Won’t ! ” Exclaimed Clint, Jump¬ 
ing to His Feet.^92 

















LEFT TACKLE THAYER 



CHAPTER I 


A NEW BOY AND AN OLD ONE 

A boy in a blue serge suit sat on tbe second tier 
of seats of an otherwise empty grand-stand and, 
with his straw hat pulled well over his eyes, 
watched the progress of a horse-drawn mower 
about a field. The horse was a big, well-fed chest¬ 
nut, and as he walked slowly along he bobbed his 
head rhythmically. In the seat of the mower 
perched a thin little man in a pair of blue overalls 
and a shirt which had also been blue at one time, 
but which was now faded almost white. A broad- 
brimmed straw hat of the sort affected by farm¬ 
ers, protected his head from the noonday sun. 
Between the overalls and the rusty brogans on 
his feet several inches of bare ankle intervened, 
and, as he paraded slowly around the field, almost 
the only sign of life he showed was when he occa¬ 
sionally stooped to brush a mosquito from these 
exposed portions of his anatomy. The horse, 
too, wore brogans, big round leather shoes which 
strapped over his hoofs and protected the turf, 
and, having never before seen a horse in leather 
3 


4 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


boots, the boy on the grand-stand had been for a 
while mildly interested. But the novelty had 
palled some time ago, and now, leaning forward 
with his sun-browned hands clasped loosely be¬ 
tween his knees, he continued to watch the mower 
merely because it was the only object in sight 
that was not motionless, if one excepts the white 
clouds moving slowly across a blue September 
sky. 

Now and then the clouds seemed to shadow the 
good-looking, tanned face of the youth, produc¬ 
ing a troubled, sombre expression. The truth is 
that Master Clinton Boyd Thayer was lonesome 
and, although he would have denied it vigorously, 
a little bit homesick. (At sixteen one may be 
homesick even though one scoffs at the notion.) 
Clinton had left his home at Cedar Run, Virginia, 
the evening before, had changed into a sleeper 
at Washington just before midnight, and reached 
New York very early this morning. From there, 
although he had until five in the afternoon to 
reach Brimfield Academy, he had departed after 
a breakfast eaten in the Terminal and had ar¬ 
rived at Brimfield at a little before nine. An 
hour had sufficed him to register and unpack his 
bag and trunk in the room assigned to him in 
Torrence Hall. Since that time—and it was now 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 5 

almost twelve o’clock—he had wandered about 
the school. He had peeped into the other dormi¬ 
tories and the recitation building, had explored 
the gymnasium from basement to trophy room 
and, finally, had loitered across the athletic field 
to the grand-stand, where, for the better part of 
an hour, he had been sitting in the sun, getting 
lonelier every minute. 

Clint—everyone had always called him Clint 
and we might as well fall in line—had never been 
farther north than Baltimore; and today he felt 
himself not only a long way from home but in 
a country somehow strangely and uncomfortably 
alien. The few persons he had encountered had 
been quite civil to him, to be sure; and the sun¬ 
light was the same sunlight that shone down on 
Cedar Run, but for all of that it seemed as if 
no one much cared where he was or what hap¬ 
pened to him, and the air felt differently and the 
country looked different, and—and, well, he rather 
wished himself back in Virginia! 

He had never been enthusiastic about going 
North to school. It had been his mother’s idea. 
Mr. Thayer was willing that Clint should prepare 
for college in his native state, but Clint’s mother 
had other ideas. Mr. Thayer had graduated from 
Princeton and it had long been settled that Clint 


6 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

was to be educated there too; and Clint’s mother 
insisted that since he was to attend a Northern 
college it would be better for him to go to a 
Northern preparatory school. Clint himself had 
not felt strongly enough about it to object. Sev¬ 
eral of his chums had gone or were going to 
Virginia Military College; and Clint would have 
liked to go there too, although the military fea¬ 
ture didn’t especially appeal to him. Brimfield 
Academy, at Brimfield, New York, had finally 
been selected, principally because a cousin of 
Clint’s on his father’s side had once attended the 
school. The fact that the cousin in question had 
never amounted to much and was now clerking 
in a shoe store in Norfolk was not held against 
the school. 

So far the boy had liked what he had seen of 
Brimfield well enough. The thirty-mile journey 
from New York on the train had been through 
an attractive country, with now and then a fleet¬ 
ing glimpse of water to add variety to the land¬ 
scape ; and the woods and fields around the Acad¬ 
emy were pretty. From where he sat at the east 
end of the athletic field he could look along the 
backs of the buildings, which ran in a row straight 
along the edge of a plateau. Nearest at hand 
was the gymnasium. Then came Wendell and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 7 

Torrence, the latter having the honour of being 
Clmt’s abode for the ensuing nine months. Next 
was Main Hall, containing recitation rooms, the 
assembly room, the library and the office; an older 
building and built all of brick whereas the other 
structures were uniformly of stone as to first 
story and brick above. Beyond Main Hall were 
Hensey and Billings, both dormitories, and, at 
the western end of the row and slightly out of 
line, The Cottage, where dwelt the Principal, Mr. 
Fernald, of whom Clint knew little and, it must 
be confessed, cared, at the present moment, still 
less. In front of the buildings the ground fell 
away to the country road over which Clint had 
that morning travelled behind a somnolent grey 
horse and a voluble driver, to the last of which 
combination he owed most of his information re¬ 
garding the Academy. 

Behind the buildings—in school parlance, the 
Row lay the athletic field, almost twelve acres 
in extent, bordered on the further side by a rising 
slope of forest. Here there were football grid¬ 
irons three of them, as the six goals indicated— 
a quarter-mile running-track, a baseball diamond 
and a dozen tennis courts. The diamond was 
most in evidence, for the grand-stand stood be¬ 
hind the plate and the base paths, bare of turf. 


8 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

formed a square in front of it. Even the foul lines 
had not been utterly obliterated by sun and rain, 
but were dimly discernible, where the mower bad 
passed, as yellower streaks against the vivid 
green. It was a splendid field; Clint had to ac¬ 
knowledge that; and for a time the thought of 
playing football on it had almost dispersed his 
gloom. But the after-reflection that for all he 
knew his services might not be required on the 
Eleven, that very possibly his brand of football 
was not good enough for Brimfield, had caused 
a relapse into depression. Thrice he had told 
himself that as soon as the plodding horse 
reached the further turn he would get up and go 
back to his room, and thrice he had failed to 
keep his promise. He wondered who his room¬ 
mate was to be and whether that youth had yet 
arrived, but his curiosity was not strong enough 
to get him up. Now, however, the mower was 
again traversing the opposite end of the field, and 
again approaching the further corner, and once 
more he made the agreement with himself, really 
meaning to live up to it. But, as events proved, 
he was not destined to keep faith. 

From around the corner of the stand furthest 
from the Row appeared a boy in a suit of light 
grey flannels. The coat, hanging open, displayed 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 9 

a soft shirt of no uncertain shade of heliotrope. 
A bow-tie of lemon-yellow with purple dots nes¬ 
tled under his chin and between the cuffs of his 
trousers and the rubber-soled tan shoes a four- 
inch expanse of heliotrope silk stockings showed. 
A straw hat with a particularly narrow brim was 
adorned with a ribbon of alternating bars of 
maroon and grey. He was indeed a cheerful and 
colourful youth, his cheerfulness being further 
evidenced by the jaunty swinging of a stick which 
he had apparently cut from a willow and by the 
gay whistling of a tune. On sight of Clint, 
however, the stick stopped swinging and the 
whistling came to an end in the middle of a 
note. 

“Hi!” said the youth in surprised tones. 

“Hello,” answered Clint politely. 

The newcomer paused and viewed the boy on 
the stand with frank curiosity. Then his gaze 
wandered across to the mower, which was at the 
instant making the turn at the further corner, 
over by the tennis courts. Finally, 

“Bossing the job?” he asked, nodding toward 
the mower. 

Clint smiled and shook his head. “No, just— 
just loafing.” 

“Hot, isn’t it?” The other pushed the gaily- 


10 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


ribboned hat to the back of his head and drew a 
pale lavender handkerchief across his forehead. 
‘ 4 Been moseying around over there in the woods,” 
he continued when Clint had murmured agree¬ 
ment. “Studying Nature in her manifold moods. 
Nature is some warm today. There ’s a sort of 
a breeze here, though, isn’t there?” 

Clint agreed again, more doubtfully, and the 
boy who had been studying Nature seated him¬ 
self sidewise on a seat below, drawing his feet 
up and clasping his hands about his knees. He 
was a good-looking, merry-faced chap of seven¬ 
teen, with dark-brown eyes, a short nose liberally 
freckled under the tan and a rather prominent 
chin with a deep dimple in it. His position re¬ 
vealed a full ten inches of the startling hose; 
and, since they were almost under his nose, Clint 
gazed at them fascinatedly. 

“Some socks, are they not?” inquired the 
youth. 

Clint, already a little embarrassed by the 
other’s friendliness, removed his gaze hurriedly. 

“They’re very—nice,” he murmured. 

The other elevated one ankle and viewed it ap¬ 
provingly. . “Saw them in a window in New York 
yesterday and fell for them at once. I’ve got 
another pair that are sort of pinky-grey, ashes 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


11 


of roses, I guess. Watch for them. They’ll 
gladden your heart. You’re new, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I got here this morning,” replied Clint. 
“I suppose you’re—you’re not.” 

“No, this is my third year. I’m in the Fifth 
Form. What’s yours?” 

“I don’t know yet. I reckon they’ll put me in 
the Fourth.” 

‘ 1 1 see. How’s everything below the Line ? ’ ’ 

“Below the line?” repeated Clint. 

“Yes, Mason and Dixon’s. You’re from the 
South, aren’t you?” 

“ Oh! Yes, I come from Virginia; Cedar Run. ’ ’ 

The other chuckled. “What state did you 
say?” he asked. 

“Virginia,” responded Clint innocently. 

“Great! ‘ Vay-gin-ya.’ ” He shook his head. 
“No, I can’t get it.” 

It dawned on Clint that the other was trying 
to mimic his pronunciation of the word, and he 
felt resentful until a look at the boy’s face showed 
that he intended no impertinence. 

‘ 4 1 love to hear a Southerner talk, ’ ’ he went on. 
“There was a chap here named Broland year 
before last; came from Alabama, I think. He 
was fine! Red-hot he was, too. You could always 
get a fall out of Bud Broland by mentioning Grant 


12 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


or Sherman. He used to fly right off the handle 
and wave the Stars-and-Bars fit to kill! We used 
to tell him that the war was over, but he wouldn’t 
believe it.” 

Clint smiled doubtfully. “Is he here now!” 
he asked. 

“Broland! No, he only stayed a little while. 
Couldn’t get used to our ways. Found school life 
too—too confining. He used to take trips, and 
Faculty didn’t approve.” 

“Trips!” asked Clint. 

The other nodded. “Yes, he used to put a 
clean collar in his pocket and run down to New 
York for week-ends. Faculty was sort of 
narrow-minded and regretfully packed him off 
home to Alabam’. Bud was a good sort, but— 
well, he needed a larger scope for his talents than 
school afforded. I guess the right place for Bud 
would have been a good big ranch out West some¬ 
where. He needed lots of room! ’ ’ 

Clint smiled. ‘ ‘ What time do we eat! ” he asked 
presently, when they had silently watched the 
passage of the mower. The other boy tugged at 
a fob which dangled at his belt and produced a 
silver watch. 

“Let’s see.” He frowned intently a moment. 
“I was twelve minutes fast yesterday afternoon. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


13 


That would make me about twenty minutes ahead 
now. I’d say the absolutely correct time was 
somewhere between eleven-fifty-eight and twelve- 
six. And dinner’s at half-past.” 

4 ‘Thank you,” laughed Clint. He pulled forth 
his own watch and looked at it. “I make it two 
minutes after,” he said, “and I was right this 
morning by the clock in the station in New 
York.” 

“Two minutes past, eh?” The hoy below set 
his timepiece and slipped it back under his belt. 
“It must be great to have a watch like yours. 
I used to have one but I left it at the rink last 
Winter and it fell into the snow, I guess, and I 
never did find it. Then I bought me this. It’s 
guaranteed for a year.” 

“Why don’t you take it back, then?” 

“Oh, I’ve got sort of used to it now. After 
all, there’s a certain excitement about having a 
watch like this. You never know whether you’re 
going to be late or early. If I have to catch a 
train I always allow thirty minutes leeway. It’s 
twelve o’clock, all right. Solomon’s quit.” He 
nodded toward where the man in the blue overalls 
was unhitching the horse from the mower. “You 
can’t fool Solomon on the dinner hour.” 

“Is that his name?” inquired Clint. 


14 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“I don’t suppose so. That’s what he’s called, 
though. He never says anything and so he seems 
to be all-fired wise. There’s a lot in that, do 
you know? Bet you if I didn’t talk so much I’d 
get the reputation of being real brainy. Guess 
I’ll have to try it.” He grinned broadly and 
Clint smiled back in sympathy. 

‘ ‘ Let’s tell our names, ’ ’ said the other. ‘ ‘ Mine’s 
Byrd; first name, Amory; nicknamed Amy. 
Pretty bad, but it might be worse.” 

“Mine’s Clinton Thayer.” 

“Thayer? We’ve got some cousins of that 
name. They’re Northerners, though. Live in 
New Hampshire. No relation to you, I guess. I 
suppose fellows call you Clint, don’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“All right, Clint, let’s mosey back and have 
some dinner. I had a remarkably early repast 
this morning and feel as though I could trifle with 
some real food.” 

“So do I,” replied Clint as he climbed down. 
“I had my breakfast at half-past six.” 

4 ‘ Great Scott! What for ? ’ ’ 

‘ 4 The train got in at six and there was nothing 
else to do. I got here before nine.” 

“You did? I thought I was one of the early 
Byrds—Joke! Get it?—but I didn’t sight the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


15 


Dear Old School until after ten. Couldn’t find 
any fellows I knew and so went for a walk. Most 
of the fellows don’t get here until afternoon. By 
the way, who do you room with?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Clint. “I didn’t ask. 
They put me-” 

“I don’t know either,” sighed Amy. “I found 
a lot of truck in my room, but I haven’t seen the 
owner yet. The fellow who was in with me last 
year has left school. Gone to live in China. Wish 
I could! I suppose the fellow I draw will he a 
regular mutt.” They had reached the corner of 
Wendell, and Amy paused. “The dining room’s 
in here. If you don’t mind waiting until I run 
up and wash a bit we ’ll eat together. ’ ’ 

“I’d like to,” answered Clint, “but I reckon 
I’ll wash too.” 

He moved along with the other toward the next 
dormitory. 

“Aren’t you in Wendell?” asked Amy. 

“No, this next one. Torrey, isn’t it?” 

“Torrence.” Amy stopped and viewed him 
with sudden interest. 1 ‘ Say, what number ? ’ ’ 

“Fourteen.” 

“Well, what do you Jcnow about that?” 

“What?” Clint faltered. 

“Why—why-” Amy seized his hand and 



16 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


shook it vigorously. ‘ ‘ Clint, I want to congratu¬ 
late you! I do, indeed! ’’ 

Clint smiled. “ Thanks, Byrd, but what 
about ?” 

“Byrd?” murmured the other disappointedly. 
“Is that the best you can do after our long ac¬ 
quaintance ? You—you grieve me!” 

“Amory, then,” laughed Clint. 

“Call me Amy,” begged the other. “You’ll 
call me worse than that when you’ve known me 
longer, but for now let it be Amy.” 

“All right. And now, please, what am I being 
congratulated for?” 

Amy’s face became suddenly earnest and sober. 
“Because, my young friend, you are especially 
fortunate. A kindly Providence has placed you 
in the care of one of the wisest, most respected, 
er—finest examples of young manhood this insti¬ 
tution affords. I certainly do congratulate you! ’ ’ 

Amy made another grab at Clint’s hand, but the 
latter foiled him. 

“You mean the fellow I’m going to room with?” 
he asked. 

“Exactly! Faculty has indeed been good to 
you, Clint. You will take up your abode with a 
youth in whom all the virtues and—and excel¬ 
lencies-” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


17 


“Who is he?” demanded Clint suspiciously. 

“His name”—Amy drew close and dropped his 
voice to an awed and thrilling whisper—“his 
name is- Are you prepared?” 

“Go on. I’ll try to stand it.” 

“His name, then, is Amory Munson Byrd!” 

‘ ‘ Amory Mun-’ ’ 

“—son Byrd!” 

“You mean—I’m in with you?” 

“I mean just that, 0 fortunate youth! For¬ 
ward, sir! Allow me to conduct you to your 
apartment!” And, putting his arm through 
Clint’s, he dragged that astonished youth into 
the dormitory. 


CHAPTER II 


CAPTAIN INNES RECEIVES 

“What’s that awful noise?” asked Clint star- 
tledly, looking up from his book. 

It was the evening of the second day of school 
and Clint and Amy Byrd were preparing lessons 
at opposite sides of the green-topped table in 
Number 14 Torrence. 

“That,” replied Amy, leaning back until his 
chair protested and viewing his room-mate under 
the shade of the drop-light, “is music.” 

“Music!” Clint listened incredulously. From 
the next room, by way of opened windows and 
transoms, came the most lugubrious wails he 
thought he had ever listened to. “It—it’s a 
fiddle, isn’t it?” he demanded. 

Amy nodded. “More respectfully, a violin. 
More correctly a viol -din. (The joke is not new.) 
What you are listening to with such evident de¬ 
light are the sweet strains of Penny Durkin’s 
violin.” Amy looked at the alarm clock which 
decorated a corner of his chiffonier. “Penny is 
twelve minutes ahead of time. He’s not supposed 
18 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


19 


to play during study-hour, you see, and unless 
I’m much mistaken he will be so informed before 

the night is much-” 

“Hey, Penny! Cut it out, old top!” 

From somewhere down the corridor the an¬ 
guished wail floated, followed an instant later by 
sounds counterfeiting the howling of an unhappy 
dog. Threats and pleas mingled. 

‘ ‘ Penny! For the love of Mike!’ 9 
‘ ‘ Set your watch back, Penny! ’ 9 
‘ ‘ Shut up, you idiot! Study’s not over! ’ 9 
‘ ‘ Call an officer, please ! 9 9 

But Pennington Durkin was making too much 
noise on his instrument to hear the remonstrances 
at first, and it was not until some impatient neigh¬ 
bour sallied forth and pounded frantically at the 
portal of Number 13 that the wailing ceased. 
Then, 

“What is it?” asked Durkin mildly. 

“It’s only ten minutes to nine, Penny. Your 
clock’s fast again. Shut up or we’ll kill you!” 
“Oh!” said Penny surprisedly. “Are you 

sure ? I set my watch- ’ 9 

‘ ‘ Oh, forget it! You say that every night, ’ ’ was 
the wearied response. “How the dickens do you 
think anyone’s going to study with that noise 
going on?” 


20 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Pm very sorry, really,’’ responded Penny. 
“If I’d known-” 

“Yon never do know, Penny!” The youth out¬ 
side strode back to his room and slammed the 
door and quiet prevailed once more. Amy smiled. 

“Poor Penny,” he said. “He suffers much in 
the cause of Art. I refuse to study any more. 
Close up shop, Clint, and let’s talk. Now that 
you’ve been with us a whole day, what do you 
think of us? Do you approve of this institution 
of learning, old man?” 

“I think I’m going to like it,” replied Clint 
soberly. 

“I do hope so,” murmured Amy anxiously. 
“Still, any little changes you’d like made-” 

“Well, you asked me, didn’t you?” laughed 
Clint. “Besides, how can I help but like it when 
I am honoured by being roomed with you?” 

“Sarcasm!” hissed Amy. “Time’s up!” He 
slammed his book shut, tossed it on a pile at his 
elbow, yawned and jumped from his chair. 
“Let’s go visiting. What do you say? Come 
along and I’ll interdoodle you to some of our 
prominent criminals. Find your cap and follow 
me.” 

“I wish,” said Amy, as they clattered down the 
stairs in the wake of several other boys who had 



LEFT TACKLE THAYER 21 

lingered no longer than they after nine o’clock 
had struck, “I wish you had made the Fifth Form, 
Clint.” 

“So do I,” was the reply. “I could have if 
they’d stretched a point.” 

“Urn; yes,” mused the other. “Stretched a 
point. Now that’s something I never could make 
out, Clint.” 

“What?” 

“Why, how you can stretch a point. The dic¬ 
tionary describes a point as ‘that which has posi¬ 
tion but no magnitude.’ Seems to me it must be 
very difficult to get hold of a thing with no mag¬ 
nitude, and, of course, you’d have to get hold of 
it to stretch it, wouldn’t you! Now, if you said 
stretch a line or stretch a circle-’ ’ 

“That’s what you’ll need if you don’t shut up,” 
laughed Clint. 

“A circle?” 

“No, a stretcher!” 

‘ ‘ What a horrible pun, ’ ’ mourned Amy. ‘ < Say, 
suppose we drop in on Jack Innes?” 

“Suppose we do,” replied Clint cheerfully. 
“Who is he?” 

“Football captain, you ignoramus. Maybe if 
you don’t act fresh and he takes a liking to you 
he will resign and let you be captain. ’ ’ 



22 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Won’t it look—well, sort of funny?” asked 
Clint doubtfully as they passed along the Row. 

4 ‘ What ? You being captain ?’ ’ 

“No, our going—I mean my going to see him. 
Won’t he think I’m trying to—to swipe?” 

“Poppycock! Jack’s a particular friend of 
mine. You don’t have to tell him you want a 
place on the team, do you? Besides, there’ll likely 
be half a dozen others there. Here we are; one 
flight. ’ ’ 

They turned in the first entrance of Hensey and 
climbed the stairs. Innes’s room, like Clint’s, 
faced the stair-well, being also Number 14, and 
from behind the closed door came a babel of 
voices. 

“Full house tonight,” observed Amy, knocking 
thunderously. But the knocking wasn’t heard 
inside and, after a moment, Amy turned the knob 
and walked in, followed by Clint. Nearly a dozen 
boys were crowded in the room and each of the 
two small beds sagged dangerously under the 
weight it held. 

“We knocked,” said Amy, “but you hoodlums 
are making so much noise that-” 

“Hi, Amy! How’s the boy?” called a youth 
whose position facing the door allowed him to 
discover the newcomers. Heads turned and other 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 23 

greetings followed. It was evident to Clint that 
his room-mate was a popular chap, for everyone 
seemed thoroughly glad to see him. 

“Come here, Amy,” called a big fellow who 
was sprawled in a Morris chair. Amy good- 
naturedly obeyed the summons and the big fellow 
pulled up a leg of the other boy’s trousers. 
“They’re grey, fellows,” he announced sorrow¬ 
fully. “Someone’s gone and died, and Amy’s in 
mourning! ’ ’ 

“Grey!” exclaimed another. “Never. Amy, 
tell me it isn’t true! ’ ’ 

“Shut up! I want to interdoodle my most 
bosom friend, Mr. Clinton Thayer, of Vay-gin- 
yah, sah! Clint, take off your hat. ” 

The merriment ceased and the occupants of the 
room got to their feet as best they might and 
those within reach shook hands. 

“That large lump over there,” indicated Amy, 
“is Innes. He’s one of your hosts. The other 
one is Mr. Still; in the corner of the bed; the in¬ 
telligent-looking youth. The others don’t matter. ’ ’ 

“Glad to know you, Thayer,” said Jack Innes 
in a deep, jovial voice. “Hope you can find a 
place to sit down. I guess that bed near you 
will hold one more without giving way.” 

Clint somewhat embarrassedly crowded on to 


24 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


a corner of the bed and Amy perched himself on 
an arm of the Morris chair. A smallish, clever- 
looking fellow across the room said: “You’re a 
punk introducer, Amy. Thayer, my name’s Mar¬ 
vin, and this chap is Hall and the next one is 
Edwards, and Still you know, and then comes 
Ruddie, and Black-” 

“Red and Black,” interpolated Amy. 

“And next to Innes is Landers-” 

“Oh, forget it, Marvin,” advised Still. 
“Thayer won’t remember. Names don’t matter, 
anyway. ’ ’ 

“Some names,” retorted Marvin, “have little 
significance, yours amongst them. I did the best 
I could for you, Thayer. Remember that. What’s 
the good word, Amy?” 

“I have no news to relate,” was the grave re¬ 
sponse, “save that Jordan obtruded his shining 
cranium as we came in and requested me to in¬ 
form you fellows that unless there was less noise 
up here-” 

Jeers greeted that fiction. “I love your 
phrases, Amy,” said Marvin. “ ‘Shining cra¬ 
nium’ is great.” 

“Oh, Amy is one fine little phraser,” said 
Innes. “Remember his theme last year, fellows? 
How did it go, Amy? Let me see. Oh! ‘The 



LEFT TACKLE THAYER 25 

westerning sun sank slowly into the purple void 
of twilight, a burnished copper disk beyond the 
earth’s horizon!’ ” 

4 'I never!” cried Amy indignantly. 

“He loves to call a football an 1 illusive 
spheroid,’ ” chuckled another chap. 

“ So it is, ’ ’ asserted Amy vehemently. ‘ ‘ I know, 
because I tried to play with one once! ’ ’ 

“I’ll bet a great little football player was lost 
when you forsook the gridiron for the—the field 
of scholarly endeavour,” said Tom Hall. 

“He’s caught it, too!” groaned the youth be¬ 
side him, Steve Edwards. “Guess I’ll take him 
home. ’ ’ 

“You’re not talking that way yet, are you, 
Thayer?” asked Jack Innes solicitously. 

“I don’t think so,” replied Clint with a smile. 

“You will sooner or later, though. The fellow 
who roomed with Amy last year got so he couldn’t 
make himself understood in this country and had 
to go to Japan.” 

“China,” corrected Amy, “China, the Land of 
the Chink and the chop-stick.” 

< ‘ There he goes! ’ ’ moaned Still. 

“What I haven’t heard explained yet,” said 
Steve Edwards, “is what’s happened to Amy’s 
glad socks. Why the sobriety, Amy?” 


26 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Wouldst hear the sweet, sad story ?” 

“Wouldst.” 

‘ i Then give me your kind attention and I willst 
a tale unfold. You see, it’s like this. Clint there 
can tell you that just the other day I was a thing 
of beauty. My slender ankles were sheer and 
silken delights. But—and here’s the weepy place, 
fellows—when I disrobed I discovered that the 
warmth of the weather had affected the dye in 
those gladsome garments and my little footies 
were like unto the edible purple beet of commerce. 
And I paid eighty-five cents a pair for those socks, 
too. I—I’m having them washed.” 

When the laughter had ceased, Ruddie, who 
seemed a serious-minded youth, began a story of 
an uncle of his who had contracted blood- 
poisoning from the dye in his stockings. What 
ultimately happened to the uncle Clint never dis¬ 
covered, for the others very rudely broke in on 
Ruddie’s reminiscences and the conversation be¬ 
came general and varied. The boy next to Clint, 
whose name he learned later was Freer, politely 
inquired as to how Clint liked Brimfield and 
whether he played football. To the latter ques¬ 
tion Clint confided that he did, although prob¬ 
ably not well enough to stand much of a chance 
here. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 27 

“Oh, you can't tell,” replied Freer encourag¬ 
ingly. “Come out for practice tomorrow and see. 
We've got a coach here that can do wonders with 
beginners.” 

“Of course I mean to try,” said Clint. “I 
reckon you wear togs, don't you, when you re¬ 
port?” 

“Yes, come dressed to play. You’ll get a work¬ 
out for a week or so, anyway. Three-thirty is the 
time. You won't feel lonesome. We've got more 
fellows here this year than we ever had and I 
guess there'll be a gang of new candidates. Got 
a lot of last year's 'varsity players left, too, and 
we ought to be able to turn out a pretty fair 
team.” 

“Where does Captain Innes play?” Clint asked 

‘ ‘ Centre, and he's a peach. Marvin, over there, 
is first-string quarter this year. Edwards will be 
one of our ends and Hall will have right guard 
cinched, I think.” 

“And where do you play?” Clint inquired. 

“Half, when I play,” laughed the other. “I'm 
going to make a good fight for it this year. How'd 
you know I did play, though?” 

“I—just thought so,” said Clint. “You sort 
of look it, you know.” 

That seemed to please Freer. “Well, I've been 


28 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

at it three years,” he said, “and this is my last 
chance. ’ ’ 

“I hope yon make it.” 

“Thanks. Same to you! Well, I must get 
along. ’ ’ 

The gathering was breaking up. Most of the 
fellows were careful to bid Clint good night as 
they went and several told him to get Amy to 
bring him around to see them. Captain Innes 
crowded his way through the confusion of visitors 
and furniture and sought Clint where he stood 
aside in the corner. 

“I believe you play football, Thayer?” he said 
inquiringly. 

“Yes, some.” 

“Well, you’re modest, anyway,” the big centre 
laughed. “Don’t overdo it, though; it doesn’t 
pay. What’s your position?” 

“I played tackle at home.” 

“Well, you come out tomorrow and show your 
goods, Thayer. We need all the talent we can 
get. Hope to see you do splendidly. Good night. 
Awfully glad to have met you. Good night, Amy. 
Hope those socks will come out all right.” 

“They’ll never be the same,” replied Amy 
sadly. ‘ 4 Their pristine splendour-” 

“Get out of here, Amy! You remind me un- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


29 


pleasantly of tomorrow’s English and the fact 
that I haven’t looked at it yet!” And Freer, 
who was a rather husky youth, pushed Amy into 
the corridor without ceremony. 

On the way back to Torrence Clint asked curi¬ 
ously : “How do you suppose Innes knew I played, 
Amy?” 

“Oh, he’s a discerning brute,” responded the 
other carelessly. 

“But he said he believed I did. That sounds 
as if someone had told him. Did you?” 

“Well,” replied the other hesitantly, “now that 
you mention it, summon it, as it were, to my at¬ 
tention, or, should I say, force it on my notice; 
or, perhaps, arouse my slumbering memory-” 

“Meaning you did?” 

‘ ‘ I might have. ’ ’ 

“When?” 

“’S afternoon. We met by chance. Casually 
I mentioned the fact that you were probably one 
of the niftiest little linemen that ever broke 
through the—er—stubborn defence of a desperate 
enemy-” 

“You idiot!” 

“And that, if properly encouraged, you would 
very likely be willing to lend your helpful assist¬ 
ance to the Dear Old Team. And he said: ‘Bless 


30 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


you, Amy, for them glad tidings. All is not lost. 
With Clint Thayer to help us, victory may once 
more perch upon our pennant !’ Or maybe it was 
‘banner/ ” 

“Honest, Amy,” pleaded Clint, “what did you 
say?” 

‘ ‘ Only that you were rooming with me and that 
I’d heard you say you played and that I meant 
to bring you around to see him this evening.’ ’ 

“And he said?” 

“He said ‘Of course, bring him along.’ ” 

“Oh,” murmured Clint. 

“Just the remark I was about to make,” de¬ 
clared Amy. 


CHAPTER in 


AMY AIRS HIS VIEWS 

Clint settled down into his appointed niche at 
Brimfield, one of one hundred and seventy-two 
individuals of various ages between twelve and 
twenty. At Brimfield there were six forms, and 
Clint had, after a brief examination, been assigned 
to the fourth. He found that he was well up 
with the class in everything save Greek and Latin, 
and these, Greek especially, soon proved hard 
sledding. The instructor, Mr. Simkins—or “ Un¬ 
cle Sim,” as he was called—was no easy task¬ 
master. He entertained a profound reverence for 
Aristotle and Vergil and Cicero and Homer and 
all the others, and failed to understand why his 
classes thought them tiresome and, sometimes, 
dry. His very enthusiasm, however, made him 
easy to impose on, and many a fellow received 
good marks merely because he simulated a fervid 
interest. But Clint was either too honest or 
possessed too little histrionic talent to attempt 
that plan, and by the time the Fall term was 
a week old, he, together with many another, was 
31 


32 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


just barely keeping his head above water. He 
confessed discouragement to his room-mate one 
evening. Amy was sympathetic but scarcely 
helpful. 

“It’s tommyrot, that’s what it is,” Amy said 
with conviction. “What good does it do you to 
know Greek, anyway? I’ll bet you anything that 
Uncle Sim himself couldn’t go to Athens to¬ 
morrow and order a cup of coffee and a hard- 
boiled egg! Or, if he did order them, he’d get a 
morning newspaper and toothpick. Last Spring 
I was in the boot-blacking emporium in the village 
one afternoon and Horace came in to get his shoes 
shined. There-” 

“Who is Horace?” asked Clint dejectedly. 

“Mr. Haley; modern languages; you have him 
in French. Well, there was a notice stuck on the 
wall across the place. It was in Greek and I 
couldn’t make anything out of it at all and I 
asked Horace what it said. Of course he just read 
it right off, with a mere passing glance; did he 
not? Yes, he did not! He hemmed and hawed 
and muttered and finally said he couldn’t make 
out the second word. I told him that was my 
trouble, too. Then we asked the Greek that runs 
the place and he told us it said that shines on 
Sundays and holidays were ten cents. Of course, 



LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 33 

Horace isn’t a specialist in Greek, but still he’s 
been through college, and what I say is-” 

“I don’t believe the men who wrote the stuff 
really understood it,” said Clint. 

“Oh, they understood a little of it, all right. 
They could sign their names, probably. The only 
consolation I find is this, Clint. A couple of 
hundred years from now, when everyone is talk¬ 
ing Esperanto or some other universal language, 
the kids will have to study English. Can’t you 
see them grinding over the Orations of William 
Jennings Bryan and wondering why the dickens 
anyone ever wanted to talk such a silly language? 
That’s when we get our revenge, Clint. We won’t 
be around to see it, but it’ll be there.” 

Clint had to smile at the picture Amy drew, 
but he didn’t find as much consolation as Amy 
pretended to, and Xenophon didn’t come any 
easier. He was heartily glad when the study-hour 
came to an end and he could conscientiously close 
his books. 

The termination of that hour was almost in¬ 
variably announced by the dismal squawking of 
Penny Durkin’s fiddle. Sometimes it was to be 
heard in the afternoon, but not always, for Penny 
was a very busy youth. He was something of a 
“shark” at lessons, was a leading light in the 


34 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Debating Circle and conducted a second-hand 
business in all sorts of things from a broken tooth- 
mug to a brass bed. Penny bought and sold and 
traded and, so rumour declared, made enough to 
nearly pay his tuition each year. If you wanted 
a rug or a table or a chair or a picture or a 
broken-down bicycle or a pair of football pants 
you went to Penny, and it was a dollar to a dime 
that Penny either had in his possession, or could 
take you to someone else who had, the very thing 
you were looking for. If you paid cash you got 
it reasonably cheap—or you did if you knew 
enough to bargain craftily—and if you wanted 
credit Penny charged you a whole lot more and 
waited on you promptly for the instalment at the 
first of each month. And besides these activities 
Penny was a devoted student of music. 

He was an odd-looking fellow, tall and thin, 
with a lean face from which a pair of pale and 
near-sighted eyes peered forth from behind 
rubber-rimmed spectacles. His hair was almost 
black and was always in need of trimming, 
and his garments—he seldom wore trousers, coat 
and vest that matched—always seemed about to 
fall off him. Clint’s first glimpse of Penny came 
one afternoon. The door of Number 13 was open 
as Clint returned to his room after football prac- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


35 


tice and lugubrious sounds issued forth. It was 
very near the supper hour and Penny’s room was 
lighted only by the rays of the sinking sun. 
Against the window Clint saw him in silhouette, 
his hair wildly ruffled, his violin under his chin, 
his bow scraping slowly back and forth as he 
leaned near-sightedly over the sheet of music 
spread on the rack before him. The strains that 
issued from the instrument were awful, but there 
was something fine in the player’s absorption and 
obvious content, and what had started out as a 
laugh of amusement changed to a sympathetic 
smile as Clint tiptoed on to his own door. 

The sorrow of Penny’s young life was that, al¬ 
though he had made innumerable attempts, he 
could not succeed in the formation of a school 
orchestra. There was a Glee Club and a Musical 
Society, the latter composed of performers on the 
mandolin, banjo and guitar, but no one would take 
any interest in Penny’s project. Or no one save 
a fellow named Pillsbury. Pillsbury played the 
bass viol, and once a week or so he and Penny 
got together and spent an entranced hour. Time 
was when such meetings took place in Penny’s 
room or in Pillsbury’s room, but popular indig¬ 
nation put an end to that. Nowadays they took 
their instruments to the gymnasium and held their 


t 


36 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


chamber concerts in the trophy room. Amy one 
day drew Clint’s attention to a fortunate circum¬ 
stance. This was that, while there was a con¬ 
necting door between Number 14 and Number 15, 
there was none between Number 14 and Number 
13. That fact, Amy declared, rendered their room 
fairly habitable when Penny was pouring out his 
soul. ‘‘It’s lucky in another way,” he added, 
staring darkly at the buff-coloured wall that sep¬ 
arated them from Number 13. ‘‘ If that door was 
on this side I’d have broken it open long ago 
and done murder! ’ ’ 

Clint laughed and inquired: “Who rooms on 
the other side!” 

“Schuman and Dreer.” The contemptuous 
tone of his reply caused Clint to ask: 

“Anything wrong with them!” 

“Oh, Schuman’s all right, I guess, but Dreer’s 
a pill.” There was a wealth of contempt in the 
word “pill” as Amy pronounced it, and Clint 
asked innocently what a “pill” was. 

“A pill,” replied Amy, “ is—is—well, there are 
all sorts of pills. A fellow who toadies to the 
instructors is a pill. A fellow who is too lazy to 
play football or baseball or tennis or anything 
else and pretends the doctor won’t let him is a 
pill. A fellow who has been to one school and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


37 


got fired and then goes to another and is always 
shooting off his month about how much better 
the first school is is the worst kind of pill. And 
that's the kind Harmon Dreer is. He went to 
Claflin for a year and a half and then got into 
some sort of mess and was expelled. Then the 
next Fall he came here. This is his second year 
here and he's still gabbing about how much higher 
class Claflin is and how much better they do every¬ 
thing there and—oh, all that sort of rot. I told 
him once that if the fellows at Claflin were so much 
classier than we are I could understand why they 
didn't let him stay there. He didn't like it. He 
doesn't narrate his sweet, sad story to me any 
more. If he ever does I'm likely to forget that 
I'm a perfect gentleman." 

But Clint’s neighbours were not of overpower¬ 
ing interest to him those days. There were more 
absorbing matters, pleasant and unpleasant, to 
fill his mind. For one thing, he was trying very 
hard to make a place on one of the football teams. 
He hadn't any hope of working into the first team. 
Perhaps when he started he may, in spite of 
his expressed doubts, have secretly entertained 
some such hope, but by the end of the second day 
of practice he had abandoned it. The brand of 
football taught by Coach Robey and played by the 


38 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


’varsity team was ahead of any Clint had seen 
outside a college gridiron and was a revelation to 
him. Even by the end of the first week the first 
team was in what seemed to Clint end-of-season 
form, although in that Clint was vastly mistaken, 
and his own efforts appeared to him pretty weak 
and amateurish. But he held on hard, did his 
best and hoped to at least retain a place on the 
third squad until the final cut came. And it 
might just be, he told himself in optimistic mo¬ 
ments, that he’d make the second! Meanwhile 
he was enjoying it. It’s remarkable what a lot 
of extremely hard work a boy will go through if 
he likes football, and what a deal of pleasure he 
will get out of it! Amy pretended to be totally 
unable to get that point of view. One afternoon 
when Clint returned to prepare for supper with 
a lower lip twice the normal size of that feature 
Amy indulged in sarcasm. 

‘ * Oh, the proud day! ’ ’ he declaimed, striking an 
attitude. “Wounded on the field of battle! 
Glory! Triumph! Paeans! My word, old top, 
but I certainly am proud to be the chum of 
such a hero! I’m so sot-up I could scream 
for joy. Football’s a wonderful pastime, isn’t 
it?” 

“Silly chump!” mumbled Clint painfully. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 39 

“Yes, indeed, a wonderful pastime / 9 ruminated 
Amy, seating himself on the window-seat and 
hugging one knee. “All a fellow has to do is to 
go out and work like a dray-horse and a pile- 
driver and street-roller for a couple of hours 
every afternoon, get kicked in the shins and bitfed 
in the eye and rolled in the dirt and ragged by 
one coach, one captain and one quarter-back. 
That’s all he has to do except learn a lot of sig¬ 
nals so he can recognise them in the fraction of 
a second, be able to recite the rules frontward 
and backward and both ways from the middle and 
live on indigestible things like beef and rice and 
prunes. For that he gets called a ‘mutt’ and a 
‘dub’ and a ‘disgrace to the School’ and, unless 
he’s lucky enough to break a leg and get out of it 
before the big game, he has twenty-fours hours of 
heart-disease and sixty minutes of glory. And 
his picture in the paper. He knows it’s his pic¬ 
ture because there’s a statement underneath that 
Bill Jones is the third criminal from the left in 
the back row. And it isn’t the photographer’s 
fault if the good-looking half-back in the second 
row moved his head just as the camera went snap 
and all that shows of Bill Jones is a torn and 
lacerated left ear!” 

“For the love of Mike, Amy, shut up!” pleaded 


40 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Clint. 44 You talk so much you don’t say any¬ 
thing ! Besides, you told me once you used to play 
yourself when you first came here. ’’ 

44 So I did,” agreed Amy calmly. 44 But I saw 
the error of my ways and quit. In me you see 
a brand snatched from the burning. Why, gosh, 
if I’d kept on I’d be a popular hero now! First 
Formers would copy my socks and neckties and 
say ‘Good morning, Mister Byrd,’ and the Review 
would refer to me as ‘that sterling player, Full¬ 
back Byrd.’ And Harvard and Yale and Prince¬ 
ton scouts would be camping on my trail and of¬ 
fering me valuable presents and taking me to 
lunch at clubs. Oh, I had a narrow escape, I 
can tell you! When I think how narrow I shud¬ 
der.” He proved it by having a sort of convul¬ 
sion on the window-seat. “Clint, when it’s all 
said and done, a fellow’s a perfect, A-plus fool 
to play football when he can enlist in the German 
army and die in a trench! ’ ’ 

“I got away for twenty yards this afternoon 
and made a touchdown,” proclaimed Clint from 
between swollen lips, trying to keep the pride 
from his voice. 

Amy threw up his hands in despair. 

“I’ll say no more,” he declared. “You’re past 
help, Clint. You’ve tasted blood. Go on, you 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 41 

poor mistaken hero, and maim yourself for life. 
I wash my hands of you.” 

“You’d better wash them of some of that dirt I 
see and come to supper,” Clint mumbled. “Gee, 
if I’d talked half as much as you have in the last 
ten minutes I*d be starved ! 91 


CHAPTER IV 


CLINT CUTS PRACTICE 

Brimfield played the first game on her schedule 
a few days later, winning without difficulty from 
Miter Hill School in ten-minute periods by a score 
of 17 to 0 . There was much ragged football on 
each side; but Brimfield showed herself far more 
advanced than her opponent and had, besides, the 
advantage of a heavier team. Clint looked on 
from the bench, with some forty others, and grew 
more hopeless than ever of making good this year. 
His present status was that of substitute tackle 
on the third squad, and it didn’t look as though 
he’d get beyond that point. If he had expected his 
introduction to Jack Innes to help his advance¬ 
ment he must have been disappointed, for the 
Captain, while he invariably spoke when he saw 
him, and once inquired in the locker-room how 
Clint was getting along, paid little attention to 
him. So far as Clint could see, nobody cared 
whether he reported for practice or not. Toward 
the end of an afternoon, when the third was for¬ 
tunate enough to get into a few minutes of scrim- 
42 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 43 

mage with the second, Clint usually finished up 
at right or left tackle. But he couldn't help think¬ 
ing that were he not there his absence would go 
unremarked. Even on the to him memorable oc¬ 
casion when he broke through the second's line on 
a fumble and, seizing the ball, romped almost un¬ 
challenged over the last four white lines for a 
touchdown the incident went apparently unno¬ 
ticed. One or two of his team-mates patted him 
approvingly on the back, but that was all. Clint 
was beginning to have moments of discourage¬ 
ment. 

But two days after the Miter Hill game an 
incident occurred which proved him wrong in 
thinking that no one knew or cared whether he 
reported for practice. That morning's Greek had 
gone unusually badly for Clint and Mr. Simkins 
had kept him after class and talked some plain 
talk to him. When Clint's final recitation of the 
day was over at three he was out-of-sorts and 
depressed. He felt very little like playing foot¬ 
ball and still less like studying, but Mr. Simkins 
had as much as told him that unless a decided im¬ 
provement was at once apparent some direful fate 
would be his, and the instructor had a convincing 
way of talking and Clint quite believed him. Con¬ 
sequently, of two evils Clint chose the more neces- 


44 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


sary and dedicated that afternoon to the Iliad. 
The dormitory was very quiet, for it was a fine, 
mild day and most of the fellows were out-of- 
doors, and concentration should have been easy. 
But it wasn’t. Clint couldn’t keep his mind on 
his book, try as he might. Through the open win¬ 
dow came sounds from the gridirons and ball- 
field; shouts, the honking of Manager Black’s 
horn, the cries of the coaches and players, the 
crack of bat and ball where the Nine was holding 
Fall practice; even, now and then, the voices of 
the tennis players far down the field. He tried 
closing the window, but that made the room hot 
and stuffy, and he opened it again. Four o’clock 
sounded and he was still dawdling. Then foot¬ 
steps sounded on the stairs, the door of Number 
13 opened and shut, and a minute or two later the 
wailing of Penny Durkin’s violin broke onto the 
silence of the deserted dormitory. That ought to 
have ended Clint’s chances of study, it seemed, 
but, oddly enough, after he had listened for five 
minutes or so, his eyes sought the page in front 
of him and then—well, then it was more than an 
hour later, the violin was silent and someone was 
knocking on his door! 

Clint gazed with surprise on the pencilled notes 
adorning the margins of the pages, from them to 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


45 


the open lexicon, from that to the pencil in his 
hand. He had absolutely done five pages! And 
then the knock at the door was repeated and Clint 
stammered “Come in!” and Tracey Black en¬ 
tered. 

The football manager was a slimly-built, 
nervous-mannered chap of eighteen and wore 
glasses through which he now regarded Clint ac¬ 
cusingly. 

“What's wrong with you, Thayer?” he de¬ 
manded bruskly. ‘ ‘ Sick ?' ' 

“Sick?” repeated Clint vaguely. “No, thanks, 
I'm all right.” 

“Then why do you cut practice?” asked Black 

severely. “Don't you know-” It was then 

that Black recalled Clint's face and remembered 
having met him in Innes's room a week before. 
“Hello,” he said in a milder tone. “I didn't rec¬ 
ognise you. Er—you see, Thayer, when you fel¬ 
lows don't show up I have to find out what the 
reason is. Maybe you didn't know it, but it's the 
customary thing to get permission to cut prac¬ 
tice.” 

“Oh! No, I didn't know it, Black,” replied 
Clint. “I'm sorry. I got in a mess with my 
Greek and thought I'd better stay away and take 


46 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


a fall out of it. Besides, I didn’t think anyone 
would care if I didn’t report.” 

“Didn’t think anyone would care!” exclaimed 
Black, seating himself on an arm of the Morris 
chair and viewing Clint with astonishment. 
“How the dickens do you suppose we can turn 
out a team if we don’t care whether fellows report 
or not ? Suppose the others thought that, Thayer, 
and stayed away!” 

“I meant that—that I’m not much use out there 
and it didn’t seem to me that it mattered very 
much if I stayed away once. I’m sorry, though, 
if I’ve done wrong.” 

“Well, that’s all right,” returned Black, mol¬ 
lified. “If you didn’t know, that’s different. 
Only another time you’d better see Mr. Robey and 
get permission to cut. You see, Thayer, at this 
time of year we need all the fellows we can get. 
Maybe you think you’re not very important out 
there, but that isn’t the way of it at all. Everyone 
counts. You are all—ah—you are all parts of the 
—ah—machine, if you see my drift, Thayer, and 

if one part is missing, why—ah- Well, you 

see what I mean?” 

“Yes, of course. I’ll remember the next time.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t let there be any next time if 
I were you. To be frank, Thayer, Robey doesn’t 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 47 

like fellows to cut. If you do it much he’s awfully 
likely to tell you to—ah—stay away altogether! ’ ’ 

“Well, in my case-” began Clint, with a 

smile. 

“Now today,” went on Black, “Robey wanted 
you for the second when Tyler got hurt and you 
weren’t there and we had to play a second squad 
half-back at tackle. Robey didn’t like it and 
jumped on me about it. And of course I had to 
tell him that I hadn’t given any cuts. I’m not 
supposed to, anyway, but he seemed to think that 
maybe I had. If you don’t mind, Thayer, it 
wouldn’t be a bad idea to tell him if he asks you 
that you were—ah—sick, you know.” 

“Do you mean,” asked Clint incredulously, 
“that he wanted me to play on the second this 
afternoon?” 

“Yes, you see Tyler got an awful bat on the 
head and he’s out of the game for several days, 
I guess. It’s none of my business, in a way, of 
course, but, if you don’t mind me saying so, 
Thayer, it’s a poor idea to let chances get by. If 
you’d been there today you might have had a slice 
of luck and found yourself on the second for 
keeps. A fellow’s got to be on the qui vive all 
the time and not miss any chances, old chap.” 

“I reckon that’s so,” agreed Clint regretfully. 



48 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“You don't think he will want me for the second 
tomorrow, Black?" 

“Oh, maybe. You be there, anyhow. And if 
he asks you you'd better fake sickness, I 
think.'' 

“I dare say he won’t remember by tomorrow," 
said Clint. “But if he does-" 

“Don't bank on that," replied Black, shaking 
his head. “Robey has a fierce memory. You’ll 
find that out for yourself if you stay around 
awhile longer." 

“If I do," murmured Clint. 

“Well, I think you will unless you get Robey 
down on you by too many cuts." 

“Really?" Clint asked eagerly. 

“Sure. You see most fellows want to be backs 
or ends; about eight out of ten want to be half¬ 
backs and the ninth wants to be either full-back 
or end. The tenth fellow is willing to play in the 
line." 

Oh,'' said Clint. * ‘ And how about quarters ?'' 

“You have to almost beg 'em to try for quarter¬ 
back. I don’t know why, but almost every fellow 
is leery of that position. Usually a coach makes 
a quarter out of a fellow who thinks he's a born 
half or end. Well, I must beat it. See you to¬ 
morrow, then?" 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 49 

“Yes, indeed, I’ll be there!” replied Clint ear¬ 
nestly. “Thanks for coming around.” 

“Oh, that's all right. All in the way of duty, 
you know. So long!' 9 

Clint thoughtfully placed a marker in his book 
and closed it. 

“That's a good afternoon's work,” he reflected, 

“but if it’s lost me a place on the second-" 

He shook his head ruefully. Then he smiled. 

“Gee,” he murmured, “I don’t know whether 
I'm more scared of Mr. Simkins or Mr. Robey!” 

The next day he made such a satisfactory show¬ 
ing in Greek that Mr. Simkins took him back into 
his good graces. “Ha, Thayer,” he said, “you 
lead me to suspect that you spent a little time 
on your lesson last evening. I am not doing you 
an injustice, Thayer!” 

“No, sir, I put in two hours on it.” 

“Marvellous! Is there any other member of 
the class who wasted so much of his time in such 
manner! Raise your hands, please. One—two— 

three- Burgess, you hesitate, do you not! 

Ah, I thought so! You were merely going to 
scratch your head. Wise youth, Burgess. Scratch 
hard. Set up a circulation if possible. Hm. That 
will do, Thayer. Burgess, if it is not asking too 
much-” 



50 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Unfortunately —or perhaps fortunately — 
Clint’s showing on this occasion was accepted by 
Mr. Simkins as a standard to which future per¬ 
formances were required to conform. “What has 
been done once may be done again, Thayer,” he 
would inform him. And Clint, not being able to 
deny the logic of this statement, was forced to 
toil harder than ever. But there came a time, 
though it was not yet, when he found that his 
difficulties were lessening, that an hour accom¬ 
plished what it had taken two to accomplish be¬ 
fore; and that, in short, Greek, while not a study 
to enthuse over, had lost most of its terrors. But 
all that, as I say, came later, and for many weeks 
yet Uncle Sim ’ pursued Clint in his dreams and 
the days when he had a Greek recitation were 
dreaded ones. 

The afternoon following that on which he had 
absented himself from practice saw Clint ap¬ 
proaching the field at three-thirty with misgiv- 
ings. He feared that Coach Robey would remem¬ 
ber his defection against him and at the same 
time he knew that he would feel flattered if the 
coach did! The question was soon settled, for 
Clint had no more than reached the bench when 
Mr. Robey’s eyes fell on him. 

4 4 Thayer! ’ ’ 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 51 

“Yes, sir!” Clint hurried toward him. 

“Where were you yesterday?” 

“In my room, sir. I had-” 

“Sick?” 

“No, sir, I wanted to-” 

“Anyone tell you you might cut practice?” 

“No, sir, I didn’t know-” 

“Never mind what you knew or didn’t know. 
You know now that if you stay away again with¬ 
out permission you’ll get dropped. That’s all.” 

Clint returned to the bench contentedly. After 
all he was, it seemed, not such an unimportant 
unit as he had supposed! Later he discovered 
that Tyler was not present and hoped so hard 
that he would fall heir to that disabled player’s 
position on the second squad that he fell under 
the disfavour of the third squad quarter-hack and 
was twice called down for missing signals. 

And then, when, finally, the first and second 
lined up for a twenty-minute scrimmage, he saw 
the coveted place again filled by the substitute 
half-back and found himself sitting, blanket- 
wrapped, on the bench! 

Tracey Black, catching his eye between periods, 
smiled sympathetically. Tracey could have told 
him that Coach Robey was punishing him for 
yesterday’s misdemeanour, but he didn’t, and the 



52 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


explanation didn’t occur to Clint. And the latter 
followed the rest back to the gymnasium after 
practice was over, feeling very dejected, and was 
such poor company all evening that Amy left him 
in disgust at nine and sought more cheerful scenes. 


CHAPTER V 


ON THE SECOND 

At the end of a fortnight Clint had, so to speak, 
become a regular student of Brimfield Academy 
in good standing. That is, he had learned the 
manners and customs and the language, for Brim- 
field, like every similar institution, had its own 
ways and its own speech. Clint no longer said 
“Hello!” or “How do you do?” on meeting an 
acquaintance. He said “ Hi! ” and threw his head 
back with a little jerk. He bought a diminutive 
grey cap with a small visor and wore it so far 
on the back of his head that it was not discernible 
from the front. (If you belonged on one of the 
teams you wore your insignia in maroon above 
the visor, or, if you had won two “B’s,” you wore 
a maroon cap instead and the insignia was in grey. 
But Clint hadn’t come to that yet.) He offhand¬ 
edly referred to the Principal as “Josh,” to the 
instructors as “Horace” or “Uncle Sim” or 
“Jordy,” as the case might be. He knew that 
a Hall Master was an “H. M.”; that he and one 

hundred and seventy-one other youths were, in 
53 


54 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


common parlance, “Brims”; that a “Silk Sock” 
was a student of Claflin School, Brimfield’s ath¬ 
letic rival; that Wendell Hall was “Wen”; Tor¬ 
rence, “T”; Hensey, “Hen” or “The Coop,” and 
Billings, “Bill.” Also that an easy course, such 
as Bible History, was a “doze”; that to study 
was to “stuff”—one who made a specialty of it 
being, consequently, a “ stuffer”; that a boy who 
prided himself on athletic prowess was a 
“Greek”; that a recitation was a “recit”; that 
the recitation rooms were 4 ‘ cells, ’ ’ and many other 
important things. 

He subscribed to the school monthly, the Re¬ 
view, —or, rather, he chipped in with Amy, which 
produced the same result at half the cost,—con¬ 
tributed to the Torrence Hall football fund, be¬ 
came a member, though not yet a very active one, 
of the debating club and paid in his dues, and 
spent all his October and November allowance in 
advance, together with most of the money he had 
in hand, in the purchase of a suit of grey flannel 
at the local tailoring establishment. When com¬ 
pleted—of course it couldn’t be paid for at once— 
it was at least two sizes too large for him, such 
being the accepted fashion at Brimfield just then; 
had the pockets set at rakish angles, exhibited a 
two-and-a-half-inch cuff at the bottom of the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


55 


trousers and contained a cunning receptacle for 
a fountain pen and pencil in the waistcoat. (Clint 
called it a vest, but the tailor set him right.) Amy 
viewed that suit with frank envy, for the coat was 
fully two inches wider across the shoulders than 
his and the trouser cuffs were deeper. He tried 
it on before the glass and promptly offered to 
buy it of Clint at an advance of two dollars, which 
offer was as promptly declined. 

“The trouble with my coat,” said Amy mourn¬ 
fully when all blandishments had failed and he 
was regretfully removing the garment, “is that 
it pretty near fits me. I told the man he was 
making it too snug!’ ’ 

By this time Canterbury High School had been 
met and defeated, by the score of 15 to 6, and the 
football team had entered on its third week. Clint 
still hung on, sometimes much discouraged, and 
took his share of hard knocks and gruelling la¬ 
bour. Tyler having returned to his position on 
the second, Clint told himself that his last chance 
to make that team had vanished. But, just when 
he had about given up hope of advancement, a 
fortuitous combination of briskness on the part 
of the weather and “ ginger ” on the part of Clint 
produced unexpected results. 

The Varsity team was composed largely of sub- 


56 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

stitutes when scrimmage with the second began 
that afternoon, for the Canterbury game three 
days before had left a number of the regulars 
rather played out. Lacking a left tackle for 
Saunders ’ place, Coach Robey took Cupples from 
the second, and Captain Turner, of the latter 
team, filled the vacancy with Robbins, who, like 
Clint, was a new candidate. Clint viewed the pro¬ 
ceeding gloomily. It seemed to him that he was 
more justly entitled to a place on the second’s 
list of substitutes than Robbins. His judgment 
was speedily vindicated, for Robbins put up such 
a weak exhibition at left tackle that Turner im¬ 
patiently sent him off, and the scrimmage stopped 
while he looked doubtfully toward the bench. 

“I want a tackle,” he announced. ‘‘Who’s 
there, Danny V 9 

Danny Moore, the trainer, ran a sharp eye along 
the blanketed line. ‘ ‘ Tackle! ” he cried. ‘ ‘ Who’s 
playing tackle?” 

Both Clint and another boy jumped forward, 
and as it happened Danny’s sharp green eye fell 
first on Clint. ‘‘Get in there, then, on the second, 
me boy!” 

Morton, the assistant manager, who was keep¬ 
ing the record, called as Clint trotted past him, 
‘‘Hi! What’s the name?” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 57 

“Thayer,” answered Clint. 

“Left tackle,” instructed Captain Turner. 
“Know the signals!” ■ 

“Yes,” Clint replied, jumping into place. 
Kingston, a heavily-built, shock-headed youth 
whom Clint knew well enough to nod to, played 
left guard. “Hi!” he said as Clint poised him¬ 
self in the line. “Use your arms and turn him 
in, boy!” 

“Help your guard,” instructed Turner, at left 
end, “and watch for an inside run.” 

It was the Varsity’s ball near the second’s 
twenty-five-yard line, and Carmine, who had 
taken Marvin’s place at quarter, sent Still plung¬ 
ing at the left of the second’s line on the first 
play. Roberts, who played opposite Clint, was a 
big, heavy chap, and when he threw himself for¬ 
ward Clint, who had been playing too high, was 
hurled aside like a chip and Still went through 
for three yards before the secondary defence 
brought him down. Turner thumped Clint on the 
back. 

“Watch for that, left tackle! Play lower! Get 
the jump! ’ ’ 

The next play struck the centre and piled 
through Peters for the distance. An end run, 
with Carmine carrying the ball, was spoiled by 


58 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Turner. Then came another attack on the left. 
Clint, playing a half-yard outside the opposing 
end, watched the ball snapped and sensed the 
play. 

“Left!” he shouted. “Left!” He heard 
Kingston grunt as he plunged into his opponent. 
Then he was holding Roberts off as best he could, 
neck and hip, and Kendall, the Varsity right half, 
was cutting in. With a lunge, Clint pivoted 
around Roberts and tackled hard and firm as the 
half-back came through. He was dragged a foot 
or two before his secondary defence hurled itself 
against the runner, but the gain was less than a 
yard and Turner thumped him ecstatically as he 
pulled himself out of the pile. 

“That’s the ticket, feller! Run him out and 
get him! Third down, second! Stop ’em now!” 

The second didn’t stop them, but it made them 
resort to a fake-kick to get their distance on 
fourth down. From the fifteen yards Kendall 
tried a field-goal and missed narrowly and the 
second put the ball in play on the twenty yards. 

The first play went through for two yards on 
the other side of the line. Then came a criss¬ 
cross, with the runner plunging at right guard. 
Clint started with the ball and had his man out 
instantly. The play followed through for three 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 


59 


yards. Again the quarter chose that point and 
again the second’s left side made the opening. 
But, with three to go on fourth down, a punt 
was imperative and Martin, the full-back, was 
called on. As Martin was a right-foot punter 
Clint had little to do save get through and down 
the field, and the instant the ball was snapped he 
dashed into his opponent, beating him by a frac¬ 
tion of a second and upsetting his balance beau¬ 
tifully. When the sound of boot and leather came 
Clint was past the ’varsity’s back-field and, with 
Turner but a yard or two in advance, was sprint¬ 
ing fast. Carmine was playing back in centre, 
with Kendall across the field, and it was into 
Carmine’s territory that the ball was going. Sud¬ 
denly Clint saw Carmine start quickly up the field 
toward them and guessed that the kick was short. 
Kendall was heading across to interfere for the 
catcher. 

‘ 1 Get the interference, ’ ’ cried Turner. 

But it wasn’t to happen that way, for Edwards 
had circled around and, even as Turner issued his 
command, Edwards and Kendall went over to¬ 
gether in a heap and the ball settled into Car¬ 
mine’s arms. Turner leaped toward him, Car¬ 
mine swayed aside and Turner went past. It was 
Clint who hurled himself at the quarter, wrapped 


60 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


eager arms about his knees and toppled him to 
earth so savagely that the pigskin bounded out of 
his clutch. There was a scramble for the ball, 
but Tyler, the second’s right tackle, got it and 
reached the twenty-yard line before he was pulled 
down from behind. 

“That’s the way to tackle, Thayer!’’ Clint, 
trotting down the field to the new line-up, turned 
to find Coach Robey beside him. “That was good 
work,” commended the coach. “Keep it up.” 

The Varsity made some changes then. Ken¬ 
dall went out and was replaced by Freer, Still 
gave way to St. Clair, and Gafferty went in for 
Hall at right guard. The fresh players saved the 
day for the ’varsity, for, although the second 
finally reached the twelve yards, it could go no 
further, and Captain Turner’s try at a place-kick 
went a yard under the cross-bar. And that ended 
the practice for the day. 

In the locker-room Turner sought Clint out and 
said several nice things about his playing, ending 
with: “Guess we’ll have to have you on the sec¬ 
ond, Thayer. You report to me tomorrow.” 

That undoubtedly was the turning point in 
Clint’s football career for that year, for three 
days later the second cut came and the third squad 
ceased to be. Some fifteen fellows retired to pri- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 61 

vate life or to their Hall teams and the rest were 
gathered into the second or went to the Varsity 
to be tried out as substitutes. Clint was pretty 
certain that, had it not been for that Tuesday per¬ 
formance, he would have been one of the unfor¬ 
tunate fifteen. 

Amy pretended to view Clint’s advancement to 
the second team with alarm. 6 ‘ First thing I 
know,” he said gloomily, ‘ 4 I’ll be rooming with 
a regular Greek. You’ll be having photographs 
taken to show your superb physical development, 
I dare say, and writing letters .to the Bulletin 
signed ‘Athlete.’ As a matter of fact, Clint, I 
happened to see that performance this afternoon 
and you didn’t fool me a bit. You tackled Car¬ 
mine because he was in the way and you ran into 
him and put your arms around him to keep from 
falling on your nose. It was no brilliancy of 
yours that made the poor chap fumble the ball. 
You hit him like a load of bricks! If I’d been 
Carmine I’d have up and biffed you one! You 
were—were distinctly ungentlemanly, Clint. You 
should remember that even in football there are 
limits. To deliberately try to kill an opponent, 
as you did today, is not considered good form. 
Besides, Carmine’s a friend of mine. We come 
from the same metropolis. It would be a very 


62 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


painful thing if I had to write home to his folks 
that he had been killed on the field of battle by 
my room-mate. A most painful and embarrassing 
duty for me, Clint.” 

“It’s going to be my painful and embarrassing 
duty to stuff a towel in your silly mouth in about 
two minutes,” replied Clint. “How did you hap¬ 
pen to see practice? I thought you were going 
to play tennis with Scannel.’ ’ 

“He didn’t show up. I suppose his courage 
failed him at the last moment.” 

“Yes, it must be trying to beat anyone the way 
he beats you. I don’t blame him for shirking 
it.” 

“When Bob Scannel beats me,” replied Amy 
serenely, “you’ll be playing football on the ’var¬ 
sity, old top, and I’ll be getting A’s in math., a 
far, far day! ’ ’ 

“I suppose I’ll be going to training table be¬ 
fore long,” said Clint reflectively. 

Amy groaned. “There you go! That’s the 
sort of stuff I’ll have to listen to from now on. 

I hope to goodness you choke on a prune! That’s 
about all you’ll get there; prunes and boiled rice. 
I’m not sure about the rice, either, at the sec¬ 
ond’s table. I think the second simply has prunes. 
Boiled prunes for breakfast, roast prunes for 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


63 


dinner and dried prunes for supper. I—I shall 
expect to notice a wonderful imprunement in you 
very soon, Clint.’ ’ 

44 And that’s the sort of stuff I have to listen 
to!” exclaimed the other. “Honest, Amy, you 
make the bummest jokes!” 

“I think that was rather good, myself,” said 
Amy cheerfully. “I believe I’ll send it to the 
Bulletin . I’ve observed of late that the Bulletin 
has lacked humour. ’ ’ 

“Did it ever have any?” asked Clint, folding 
the letter he had been struggling over. 

“Unconsciously, yes. Last year someone con¬ 
tributed a sonnet called ‘Truth.’ No one could 
see much sense in it until some smart chap dis¬ 
covered that the first letters of each line spelled 
4 The Bulletin is Punk. ’ Now when you want any¬ 
thing printed in the Bulletin you have to send a 
sworn statement that there isn’t an acrostic con¬ 
cealed in it. The editors w T ent gunning for the 
fellow who sent in the sonnet, hut they never 
found him.” 

Clint laughed. “They didn’t try 14 Torrence, 
then, did they?” he inquired. Amy smiled non- 
committingly. 

“Your insinuation pains me,” he murmured. 

“Why don’t you deny it, then?” 


64 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“It is quite unnecessary. Anyone knowing my 
blameless career-” 

“Have you saved a copy of it?” 

“I believe there’s one somewhere in my scrap¬ 
book,” replied Amy carelessly. “Some time, if 
you are good, I ’ll look it up. Meanwhile, if you ’re 
through with your ridiculous chatter, we’ll go to 
supper.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE RUNAWAY WHEEL 

The following Saturday Brimfield went to 
Thacher to play Thacher School. As there was 
to be no practice for the second team, Clint de¬ 
cided to see the game. Rather to his surprise, 
Amy readily agreed to accompany him. Amy 
pretended a deep disdain for football and seldom 
attended practice or, for that matter, minor coif- 
tests. It is probable that he consented to go to 
Thacher less to watch the game than for the sake 
of Clint’s society, for by that time the two were 
fairly inseparable. The team started oft about 
noon, but the “rooters,” most of whom had 
eleven-thirty recitations, started an hour later, 
after a hurried dinner. Thacher was only twenty- 
odd miles away, but the journey occupied more 
than an hour, since it was necessary to take train 
to Wharton and change there to the trolley line. 

It was a mild day, sunny and cloudless, and 
travelling, especially on the electric car, was very 
pleasant. The fellows were full of spirits and a 
bit noisy, and played pranks on each other and 
65 


66 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


had a thoroughly good time. The only untoward 
incident occurred when Peters, the second team 
centre, fell off the running-board of the trolley 
car and rolled down a six-foot embankment. For¬ 
tunately the accident occurred on a curve and 
the car was running slowly. Still more fortu- 
tunately, perhaps, Peters was a rotund youth well 
padded with flesh and he sustained no injuries 
beyond a sprained thumb. By the time the car 
had been stopped and hurried back to the rescue 
Peters was climbing a trifle indignantly up the 
bank. For the rest of the way he amused him¬ 
self and others within hearing by estimating the 
amount of damages he could collect from the rail¬ 
way company. 

Something like an hour later, however, when 
Peters made the discovery that in his spectacular 
dikembarkment he had emptied his pocket of all 
the money he had with him, a matter of ninety- 
four cents, he could no longer see the humorous 
aspect of the incident. For nearly two months 
he conducted a campaign of correspondence with 
the railway company seeking a refund of his 
money. Peters' claim against the company be¬ 
came a standing joke. In the end he was de¬ 
feated. His contention that the company owed 
him the amount of money lost from his pocket 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 67 

resulted, after many days, in a reply from the 
claims agent to the effect that since the money 
was undoubtedly just where he had lost it and 
could be found by search the company could not 
be held responsible. To this Peters laboriously 
wrote that since the money had been abstracted 
from him while a passenger on the company’s 
car it was up to the company to find it and return 
it to him. Also that, if the loss wasn’t made good, 
he would bring suit against the company for in¬ 
juries sustained. After a lapse of a fortnight 
the agent countered with a statement that as 
Peters had been riding on the running-board, con¬ 
trary to the rules of the company, the company 
was in no way liable for his injury. Peters re¬ 
plied that he had not ridden on the running-board 
from choice but that he had been unable to find 
accommodations on any other part of the car, and 
he wanted ninety-four cents, please. Whereupon 
a brief epistle announced that the matter had been 
referred to the legal department and, upon ad¬ 
vice, the road was regretfully obliged to refuse 
further consideration of the claim. That settled 
the matter, except that Peters wrote once more 
and told the agent quite frankly what he, Peters, 
thought of the railway, its officers, legal depart¬ 
ment, road-bed, rolling-stock and claims depart- 


68 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


ment; especially claims department! Undoubt¬ 
edly the company had grounds for libel after the 
receipt of that epistle, but it never made use of 
them. 

But we are far ahead of our story. 

The Thacher game was not especially interest¬ 
ing. Thacher faced Brimfield with a light team, 
and, unable to gain consistently through the line, 
reverted to kicking. This gave the visiting backs 
some good practice in the handling of punts but 
gained the home team little advantage. Brim- 
field rolled up twenty-six points in four ten- 
minute periods and was scored on but once when, 
in the third quarter, Thacher managed a brilliant 
field-goal from the enemy’s thirty-three yards. 

The contest was all over before four o’clock 
and Brimfield made a wild rush from the grounds 
to the town in the endeavour to get the four-fifteen 
trolley for Wharton. The team, which was pro¬ 
vided with a coach, and about half the “rooters” 
succeeded, but the rest, Clint and Amy among 
them, arrived too late. 

As there was not another car until a quarter 
to five, they set out to kill time by viewing the 
town. Thacher was not a very large place and, 
after wandering up one side of the main street 
and down the other, looking in all the windows, 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 69 

and leisurely partaking of college-ices at the prin¬ 
cipal drug store, there was still ten minutes left 
to be disposed of. At the moment of making the 
discovery they were a block from the square from 
which the trolley car trundled away to Wharton, 
and they could have covered the distance in some¬ 
thing like ten seconds from a standing start. In 
spite of this, however, they never got that 
car! 

Gradually they had become separated from the 
other fellows, and now they were alone in their 
grandeur watching the efforts of a youth of about 
twenty to start an automobile which stood in front 
of Thacher’s principal hotel, the Commercial 
House. They were not especially interested in 
the spectacle and really didn’t much care whether 
the youth ever got going, but there wasn’t much 
else to look at. Every time the engine started and 
the youth made a wild dash at the throttle he 
reached it too late. Before he could pull it down 
the chug-chugging died away. Several minutes 
passed and Clint viewed the clock in front of a 
jewelry store across the street apprehensively. 
It was seventeen minutes of five. He tugged 
Amy’s sleeve. 

“Come on,” he said. “We don’t want to miss 
this one.” 


70 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Right-o,’’ replied Amy. 44 Let’s see, though, 
if he makes it this time.” 

“Say, one of you fellows pull that throttle down 
when I get her going, will you?” asked the auto- 
mobilist. Amy nodded and put his hand on the 
quadrant. 

“Now then!” The engine started after sev¬ 
eral crankings and Amy pulled a lever. Unfor¬ 
tunately, however, he pulled the wrong one and 
the engine, as Amy said, immediately choked to 
death. The youth observed him more in sorrow 
than in anger and drew a sleeve over his perspir¬ 
ing forehead. 

4 ‘ Awfully sorry, ’ ’ said Amy. ‘ ‘ I got the wrong 
handle. Try it again.” 

The clock showed four-forty-four and Clint saw 
the car roll around the corner into the square. 
“Come on,” he begged. “Well have to beat it, 
Amy.” Amy nodded, but the youth was cranking 
again and he didn’t want to desert his post. This 
time their combined efforts were crowned with 
success. The car awoke to a steady, frantic chug¬ 
ging. The youth mopped his forehead again. 

“Want a ride?” he asked. “I’m going by the 
school. ’ ’ 

“Not our school,” said Amy. “We’re from 
Brimfield.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 71 

Well, I’ll put you down in Wharton before the 
trolley gets there. That’s where I’m going. 
Jump in.” 

Amy looked eagerly at Clint. “Want to?” he 
asked. 

4 ‘ Got to, ’ ’ replied Clint gloomily. < 4 There goes 
the car, you silly chump!” 

“All right,” said Amy. “We don’t have to 
get there until five-twenty, anyway. Come on, 
Clint.” 

They climbed into the back of the car and threw 
themselves luxuriously against the cushions. 

“Home, James,” commanded Am y, 

The driver turned and grinned. He was a not- 
over-clean youth, and his hair was badly in need 
of a barber’s attentions, but he was evidently 
good-natured. The car, which was an old one 
and had undoubtedly seen much better days, 
swung around and headed back toward Thacher 
School and the football field. The youth talked 
to them over his shoulder. 

“She’s hard to start,” he said, “when she’s 
been standing, but she can go all right. You wait 
till we’re out of town and I’ll show you. I got 
to go over to Wharton to get Mr. Cumnock. ’ ’ 

4 4 Who’s he 1 ” asked Amy disinterestedly. 

“He runs the Commercial House. He comes 


72 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


out from New York on the express and I go over 
and get him. ’’ 

“Oh, is this his car?” 

“No, it belongs to Sterry, the liveryman. I 
drive for him. It’s been a good car in its day, 
but it’s pretty old now. Runs pretty well, though, 
when it’s in shape.” 

“I hope,” said Clint, “it’s in shape today.” 

‘‘ Sure. I was two hours fixing it this morning. 
Now I’ll show you if she can go.” 

He did and she could! They passed the school 
and the football field at a thirty-mile clip and, a 
little further out of town, hit it up still faster. 
Clint and Amy bumped around in the tonneau 
like two dried peas in a pod. The engine was 
by no means noiseless and from somewhere under 
their feet there came a protesting grind that 
nearly drowned their efforts at conversation. Not 
that that mattered, though, for they were going 
too fast to talk, anyway. At first they were a bit 
uneasy, but presently when they found that the 
car did not jump into a ditch or vault a fence, 
they got over their nervousness and thoroughly 
enjoyed the well-nigh breathless sensation. The 
driver lolled back on his spine with a nonchalance 
that aroused Clint’s admiration and envy. He 
wondered whether he would ever own a car and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


73 


be able to go dashing through the scenery at forty 
miles an hour like this. And he was still won¬ 
dering when something happened. 

It happened so quickly that it was all over be¬ 
fore it had begun. At least, so Amy declared after¬ 
wards. The car, which fortunately had decreased 
its speed to negotiate an abrupt turn in the road, 
suddenly shot down a slope at the left, turned 
around once and stopped with a disconcerting 
abruptness, its radiator against a four-inch birch 
tree. Clint and Amy picked themselves from the 
bottom of the tonneau and stared, more surprised 
than frightened. Behind them, on the level road, 
a wheel—present investigation showed that it was 
the forward left one—was proceeding firmly, in¬ 
dependently on its way! As they looked, open- 
mouthed, it began to wobble, as though doubtful 
of the propriety of going off on its own hook like 
that, and finally, after turning around several 
times, like a dog making its bed, it subsided in 
the dust. 

The driver of the car, still clutching the 
steering-wheel, turned a mildly surprised gaze on 
the boys. “Now, what,’’ he asked slowly, “do 
you think of that?” 

They both thought it decidedly strange, but 
they didn’t say so. Clint laughed uncertainly and 


74 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


took a long breath and Amy viewed his surround¬ 
ings interestedly. 

“When,” asked Amy, “does the next car go, 
please?” 

That flippant remark broke the tension and the 
driver climbed gingerly out and viewed the bare 
hub. “It’s lucky,” he ruminated, “I had you 
fellows in back there. If you hadn’t been there 
I guess she’d have turned turtle on me. Well, 
say, I’ve known this old boiler to do a heap of 
tricks, but this is a new one on me, all right!” 
He stood off and sought inspiration by scratching 
his head. The boys joined him on the ground. 
“Just naturally slid off the hub and rolled away!” 
murmured the youth. “What do you think of 
that ? ’ ’ 

“I’d hate to tell you what I think of it,” re¬ 
sponded Amy. “Can you put it on again?” 

“Yes, but it won’t stay, because the nut’s gone.’’ 
He went off and rescued the wheel. “I guess the 
nut and the hub-cap came off down the road some¬ 
where. Might look for ’em, but like as not they’re 
a mile or two back. ’ ’ 

“What will you do then?” asked Clint. 

“Foot it to Wharton, I guess. Maybe I can 
find a telephone this side somewhere.” He re¬ 
flected. “I guess there’s one at Maxwell’s Stock 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


75 


Farm about three miles from here. I’ll get Bum- 
stead in Wharton to send out and tow me in.” 

“That’s all right for you,” said Amy, “but 
what are we supposed to do?” 

“Guess you’ll either have to foot it or wait till 
someone comes along. Sorry, but I didn’t know 
that wheel was thinking of leaving.” 

“Do you reckon there’ll be someone along?” 
asked Clint. 

“Sure to be sooner or later.” 

“We’ll get ‘sooner or later’ if we’re not back 
at school in time for supper,” murmured Amy. 
“Guess we’d better hike along, Clint. How far 
is Wharton from here?” 

“About five miles, by road,” said the youth. 
“Maybe less if you cross over there and hit the 
trolley line. Say, if you get over there you might 
catch a car. What time is it?” 

“Just five-three,” answered Clint. 

“Oh, well, then there won’t be one along for 
most a half-hour. That’ll be your shortest way, 
though. ’ ’ 

“We’ll never get back before six,” said Clint. 

“More likely eight,” replied Amy. “Well, it 
can’t be helped. We might as well make the best 
of it. What are you going to do?” 

The driver of the automobile looked up the road 


76 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


and down. “I might go back and look for that 
nut,” he muttered, u or I might go on to Max¬ 
well's, or I might stay here and wait for someone 
to come along. Guess I’ll wait a while.” 

6 ‘ Well, we’ve got to beat it, ’ ’ said Amy. ‘ ‘ Sorry 
about your car. Is there anything we can do if 
we ever reach Wharton ?” 

The youth shook his head philosophically. 
“No, I’ll get word to Bumstead before you get 
there, I guess. Much obliged. I’m sorry I got 
you into such a fix, fellows. I meant well.” He 
grinned broadly. 

“That’s all right,” Clint replied. “It wasn’t 
your fault. Good-bye. Straight across that field 
there, you say? How far is it to the trolley?” 

“About half a mile, I guess. You’ll see the 
poles pretty quick. Good-bye, fellows. Hope you 
get home all right. So long. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VII 


lost! 

It was all well enough for the automobile driver 
to tell them go straight across the field, but 
it was quite another thing to do it, for there was 
a broad and deep stream in the middle of it and 
no sign of a bridge anywhere in sight. There 
was nothing to do but follow the stream in the 
general direction of Wharton until they could 
reach the trolley line. That brook wound in a 
most exasperating manner, finally heading back 
toward where they supposed the dirt road to be. 
Amy stopped and viewed it disgustedly. 

44 I’m going to wade it,” he declared. 

But Clint persuaded him against that plan, 
pointing out that he would be extremely uncom¬ 
fortable riding on the trolley car with his clothes 
soaking wet. Amy grumblingly agreed to give the 
stream another chance to behave itself. By that 
time they had been walking fully fifteen minutes 
and the scene of the accident was lost to sight 
and as yet there was no trace of the trolley line. 
Clint looked at his watch. 

77 


78 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“I reckon,” he said, “we wouldn’t get that car 
even if we were on the other side now. The best 
thing for us to do is hit the road again and beat 
it for Wharton on foot.” 

Amy agreed and they turned their backs on 
the stubborn brook and set off across a meadow 
which presently gave place to a hill-side field 
overgrown with bushes and weeds and prickly 
vines which clung to their trousers and snarled 
around their feet. Clint said they were wild rasp¬ 
berry and blackberry vines and Amy replied that 
he didn’t care what sort of vines they were; they 
were a blooming nuisance. To avoid them, they 
struck westward again toward a stone wall, 
climbed it and found themselves in a patch of 
woods. They kept along the stone wall, dodging 
in and out through the trees, and ascending a 
hill. Presently it dawned on Clint that the stone 
wall, like the brook, was having fun with them. 
For, instead of running straight, as one would 
expect any decent stone wall to run, it was bend¬ 
ing all the time to the west. Clint knew it was 
the west because the sun was disappearing there; 
perhaps had disappeared by now. He acquainted 
Amy with the discovery and they crawled across 
the wall again and found themselves in a worse 
tangle of briers than before. But they were des- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


79 


perate now. It was well after five and the shad¬ 
ows were getting long and black. They were both 
secretly rather glad to be out of the woods, al¬ 
though progress through the briers was far from 
enjoyable. 

Finally Amy, pausing to wrest himself from the 
frantic clutches of a blackberry vine, raised his 
head and viewed Clint solemnly. 

“Clint,’’ he announced, “I’ve got something to 
tell you.” 

“Fire away.” 

“We’re lost.” 

“I knew that ten minutes ago,” was the reply. 

‘ ‘ Then why didn’t you tell a fellow ? When I’m 
lost I like to know it. It’s the—the uncertainty 
that worries me. Now that I know I shall never 
see school and Josh again I feel better.” Amy 
looked about him appraisingly. “Have you no¬ 
ticed any berries or nuts, Clint? I suppose we’ll 
have to live on them for a few days.” 

“You’re the only nut I’ve seen so far,” laughed 
Clint. “Come on and let’s get out of here. If 
I’ve got to be lost I’d rather be lost where there 
aren’t so many stickers.” 

“Yes,” agreed Amy, “I suppose we must do 
the usual thing. We must walk until we drop. 
Then we cover ourselves with leaves, pillow our 


80 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

heads on a rock and sleep the sleep of exhaus¬ 
tion. ’ ’ 

“What was that?” asked Clint. 

“What was what? Don’t tell me you heard a 
bear!” 

“I guess it was the trolley car. Only it seemed 
to come from over that way, and that fellow said 
the trolley line was over there. ’’ 

“I don’t believe that fellow very well,” re¬ 
sponded Amy pessimistically. “He said he’d get 
us to Wharton, and he didn’t. He said his old 
car would go, and it didn’t. He said we could 
cross that field, and it didn’t—I mean we couldn’t. 
Anyway, I propose we find the road again and sit 
down and wait until someone comes along and 
gives us a lift.” 

“That’s all very well, but which way is the 
road?*’ 

Amy considered. “Search me,” he said finally. 
“Let’s play it’s over there, though. After all, 
it doesn’t matter which way you walk when you’re 
lost. You always walk in circles. We’ll be back 
here in a while, Clint. Why not make believe 
we’ve walked and are back again?” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Clint. “Come on. 
It ’ll be dark first thing we know and then we ivill 
be in a fix!” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


81 


“And I’m getting most awfully hungry,” mur¬ 
mured Amy. “I shall search for berries as we 
toil weariedly onward.” 

When they at last left the pasture behind them 
they found themselves in another wood. Clint 
leaned hopelessly against a tree and shook his 
head. 

“This has ceased to be a joke, Amy. We’re 
just about lost as anything.” 

“Right-o!” Then he added cheerfully: “But 
we didn’t walk in a circle, Clint. That’s some¬ 
thing. And that road must be somewhere around 
here. When you think of it it’s mighty funny. 
There we were with a perfectly good road on one 
side of us and a trolley line on the other. We 
haven’t crossed either of them. Now where the 
dickens are they?” 

“The way I figure it,” replied Clint thought¬ 
fully, “is that the trolley was a lot farther off 
than he said it was and that the road turned to 
the left again after we got off it. One thing is 
certain, and that is that if we haven’t crossed it 
it must be in front of us somewhere, and the only 
thing to do is keep on going. ’ ’ 

“Until we drop,” agreed Amy. “I shall begin 
and look for a nice comfortable place to drop. 


82 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Say, we won’t get a thing but hard looks when 
. we get back—if ever we do. ’ ’ 

“We’ll be lucky if we get off with hard looks, 
I reckon,’’ said Clint gloomily. 

They went on through the woods. They were 
tired now and it was quite dark under the trees 
and they made slow progress. Once Clint tripped 
over a fallen branch and measured his length and 
once Amy ran head-on into a sapling and declared 
irately, as he rubbed his nose, that he would come 
back the next day with an axe and settle matters. 
At last, after a silence of many minutes: ‘ ‘ We ’re 
doing it, I’ll bet you anything,’’ said Am y 

“Doing what?” asked Clint from the twilight. 

“Walking in a circle. We must be. We’ve 
been in this place for twenty minutes, at least, 
and we haven’t found a way out yet. Which way 
is it you go when you walk in a circle? To the 
left, isn’t it?” 

“Right, I think,” answered Clint doubtfully. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the left. Tell you 
what we’ll do, we’ll take shorter steps with our 
right legs, Clint.” 

They tried it, but nothing resulted. It was 
pitch-black now and, since the sun was gone, get¬ 
ting chillier every minute. Clint wished he had 
put on a vest, or, rather, waistcoat. He was about 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


83 


ready to give up when a patch of grey showed 
ahead and they made toward it to find themselves 
at the edge of the wood on a little hill. Below 
them spread uncertainly a bare field. Overhead 
a few stars shone. If the road was near it was 
too dark to see it. They sat down on the ground 
to rest. For several minutes neither spoke. Then 
Clint heard a chuckle from Amy. 

“Glad you find it so funny,” he grumbled re¬ 
sentfully. 

“I was just thinking of something,” gurgled 
Amy. “This is Saturday, you know, and we al¬ 
ways have cold lamb for supper on Saturdays. I 
hate cold lamb. ’ ’ 

“I don’t see where the joke comes in,” grum¬ 
bled Clint. 

“Why, I don’t have to eat the lamb, do I? Isn’t 
that funny?” 

“No, it isn’t. I could eat cold—cold—cold dog! 
Come on. We might as well walk as sit here and 
freeze to death.” 

“I’ve read,” said Amy, “that freezing was a 
pleasant death, but it doesn’t seem so. Maybe, 
though, it’s painful just at first. ’ ’ He arose with 
a groan and followed Clint down the slope. There 
were more briers, and now and then they stum¬ 
bled over outcropping rocks. The field seemed 


84 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


interminable, but after awhile Clint bumped into 
a wall. They climbed over it and started on again. 

“If there was only a moon,” said Clint, “it 
would help some. You can’t see a blessed thing.” 

“If there was a moon it wouldn’t get through 
the clouds. It feels to me as if it might rain.” 

“You certainly have cheerful thoughts,” Clint 
grumbled. ‘ ‘ I wonder if it would do any good if 
we yelled.” 

“We might try it. Suppose we give the Brim- 
field cheer, Clint.” 

“Oh, shut up! You make me tired, Amy. 
Come on, now. Yell as loud as you can. All 
ready?” 

“Hold on! What am I to yell?” 

‘ 1 Yell 1 Help! ’ you idiot! ’ ’ 

“Oh, all right.” They raised their voices to¬ 
gether in a loud appealing shout. Then they lis¬ 
tened. Not a sound answered them. 

“Once more,” said Clint. Again they shouted 
and again they listened. Deep silence, broken only 
by the chirping of crickets. 

“No good, I guess,” said Clint despondently. 

“Nobody home,” murmured Amy. “Now 
what? I’ll tell you frankly, as man to man, that 
I can’t go on walking all night, Clint. I’m dog- 
tired and my left leg’s got a cramp in it and I’m 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 85 

weak with hunger. Let’s find a cosy corner some¬ 
where and go to sleep.” 

“I reckon we’ll have to. I’m about all in, too. 
We’d better find a place where there’s more 
shelter than there is here, though. Gee, but we 
are certainly a fine pair of idiots! ’ ’ 

“We are indeed!” assented Amy with enthusi¬ 
asm. “I suppose that the time will come, per¬ 
haps twenty or thirty years from now, when we’ll 
be able to look back on this night’s jolly adven¬ 
tures and appreciate all the fun we ’re having, but 

just now-” Amy’s voice trailed off into 

silence. 

‘ 4 Jolly adventures!” grunted Clint. 4 ‘Don’t 
talk rot!” 

Five minutes later they stopped. That is, Clint 
stopped and Amy ran into him with a grunt. 

‘ ‘ I suppose you haven’t got a match, have you ? ’ ’ 
asked Clint. 

“Right-o! You’re a fine little supposer,” chat¬ 
tered Amy. 

‘ ‘ There’s something here and I want to see what 
it is,” said Clint. As he spoke he moved for¬ 
ward a step or two and felt around in the dark¬ 
ness. “It feels like a fence,” he muttered, “a 
board fence. No, it isn’t, it’s a house! Here’s 
a window. ’ ’ 


86 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“A hole, I’d call it,” said Amy. “Let’s find 
the door.” 

They moved to the right, following the build¬ 
ing, and promptly collided with a tree. They had 
to go around that, since there was no room to 
squeeze past it. Then the hut, for it was evidently 
no more, presented a doorway, with a door half¬ 
open on broken hinges. They hesitated a moment. 

“Wonder what’s inside,” said Clint in a low 
voice. 

“Spooks,” suggested Amy, none too bravely. 

“Shut up! Would you go in!” 

“Sure, I would. Come on.” 

Very cautiously they edged past the crazy door, 
their hands stretched warily ahead. There was 
a sudden scurrying sound from the darkness and 
they jumped back and held their breaths. 

“P-probably a rat,” whispered Amy. 

“Or a squirrel,” said Clint. They listened. 
All was silent again. A damp and musty odour 
pervaded the place. Under their feet the floor 
boards had rotted and as they made a cautious 
circuit of the interior they trod as often on soil 
as on wood. The hut was apparently empty of 
everything save a section of rusted stovepipe, 
dangling from a hole in the roof, some damp rags 
and paper in a corner and a broken box. Clint 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


87 


discovered the box by falling over it with a noise 
that sent Amy a foot off the ground. When all 
was said the advantages presented by the hut were 
few. It did protect them from the little chill 
breeze that stirred and it put a roof over their 
heads, although, as Clint said, if it rained before 
morning they’d probably find the roof of little 
account. On the other hand, it was damper than 
the outdoors and the mustiness was far from 
fragrant. They decided, however, to take up their 
quarters there until morning. Looking for the 
road was evidently quite useless, and, anyway, 
they were much too tired to tramp any longer. 
They found a place away from door and window 
where some of the floor-boards still survived and 
sank down with their backs to the wall. Amy 
heaved a great sigh of relief. 

4 4 Gee, ’ ’ he muttered, 4 4 this is fine! ’ 9 

44 Pull the blanket up,” murmured Clint with 
a pathetic effort at humour. Amy chuckled 
weakly. 

44 I can’t reach it,” he said. 44 Guess it’s on 
the floor. Anyway, the night air is very bene¬ 
ficial.” 

4 4 Could you eat anything if you had it, 
Amy?” 

44 Shut up, for the love of Mike! I could eat 


88 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


a kitchen range. Clint, did I cast any aspersions 
awhile ago on cold lamb?” 

“Uh-huh,” said the other faintly. 

“I was afraid so. I wish I hadn’t now. A 

great, big platter of cold lamb would—would- 

Oh, say, I could love it to death! Gee, but I’m 
tired! And sleepy, too. Aren’t you?” 

Clint’s response was a long, contented snore. 
Amy grunted. “I see you’re not,” he murmured. 

“Well-” He pushed himself a little closer to 

Clint for warmth and closed his eyes. 

Many times they stirred and muttered and 
reached for bedclothes that were not there, but 
I doubt if either of them once really fully awoke 
until a sudden glare of light illumined the hut 
and flashed on their closed eyelids. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MYSTERIOUS AUTO 

They awoke then, alarmed and confused, and 
stared with sleepy eyes at the white radiance 
which, entering door and window, showed with 
startling detail the bare walls of their refuge. 
Even as they looked the light vanished and, by 
contrast, the darkness seemed blacker than ever. 

‘‘Awake, Amy!” whispered Clint, 

“Yes. Say, what the dickens was that V 9 

‘ ‘ I don’t know. Listen! ’ 1 

From somewhere not far away came the steady 
purring of a motor car. Their minds didn’t work 
very quickly yet, and it was fully a minute before 
Clint exclaimed: “An auto! Then we must be 
near the road!” 

He scrambled to his feet and crept, unsteadily 
because of chilled limbs, to the doorway. Amy 
followed. At first there was nothing to be seen. 
The night was still cloudy. But the sound of the 
running motor reached them distinctly, and, after 
a minute of strained peering into the darkness, 
they made out a line of trees against the sky. 

89 


90 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Apparently there was a road between them and 
the trees and the automobile was in the road. 
But no lights showed from it. 

“Do you suppose,’’ whispered Amy, “it’s that 
fellow looking for us?” 

“No, but maybe, whoever it is, he will give 
us-” 

Clint’s whisper stopped abruptly. A light 
flashed a few yards away, such an illumination 
as might be from a pocket electric lamp, and a 
voice broke the stillness. Clint grasped Amy’s 
arm, warning to silence. Footsteps crossed the 
ground toward the hut. 

Again the light flashed, but this time its rays 
were directed toward the ground and showed two 
pairs of legs and something that looked like a 
stout stick. Then it went out again and the foot¬ 
steps stopped. The two men, whoever they were 
and whatever they were doing, remained some 
twenty feet from the watchers at the door. Now 
and then they spoke, but so softly that the boys 
could not hear what was said. Neither could they 
determine what the other sound was that reached 
them. It seemed almost as though the men were 
scuffling about the ground, and the absurd notion 
that they had lost something and were seeking 
it occurred to both. But to look for anything in 



Now and then they spoke, but so softly that the boys 

could not hear what was said 





91 


LEFT TACKLE iTHAYER 

the dark when there was a light at hand was too 
silly, and that explanation was discarded. For 
fully ten minutes—it seemed much longer to the 
shivering pair in the doorway—the motor 
chugged and the men continued their mysterious 
occupation. Amy’s teeth were chattering so that 
Clint squeezed his arm again. Then the light 
again flashed, swept the ground for an instant 
and was as suddenly shut off, and the footsteps 
retreated. 

The boys eased their cramped positions. A 
minute passed. Then they leaped aside from the 
doorway, for the flood of white light from the 
car was again illumining the hut and the engine 
was humming loudly. A moment of suspense, and 
the light swept past them, moved to the right, 
fell on a line of bushes and trees, turned back a 
little and bored a long hole in the darkness at 
the bottom of which stretched a roadway. And 
then, with a final sputter of racing engine and a 
grind of gears, the car sprang away up the road, 
the light dimmed and blackness fell again. The 
chugging of the auto diminished and died in the 
distance. Amy arose stiffly from where he had 
thrown himself out of the light. 

“Now, what the dickens V 9 he demanded puz- 
zledly. 


92 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


‘ ‘ I can’t imagine , 5 ’ replied Clint. i 1 And I don’t 
much care. What gets me is why we didn't speak 
to them!" 

‘ 4 That’s so,’’ agreed Amy. “Somehow, there 
was something sort of sneaky about them, though, 
wasn’t there? Bet you anything they were rob¬ 
bers or—or something.’’ 

‘ 4 Robbers don’t usually travel around the coun¬ 
try at night in autos,’’ said Clint thoughtfully. 
“But I felt the way you did about them, I guess. 
I sort of felt that it would be just as well if we 
didn’t butt in! One of them had a club that looked 
right hefty.’’ 

“Let’s go out there and see if we can find any¬ 
thing, ’ ’ suggested Amy. 

“All right, but I don’t suppose we can even find 
the place in the dark.’’ 

They went out very cautiously and tramped 
about where it seemed that the mysterious visitors 
had been, and Amy even got down on hands and 
knees and felt over the ground. But nothing of 
moment rewarded their search, the only thing 
either of them discovered being a head-high bush 
into which Clint walked. At last: 

“Well, this isn’t much fun," said Amy. “And 
I’m cold clear through. Now we know where the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 93 

road is, Clint, let’s get on it and walk. At least 
it will warm ns up.” 

“All right. I wish I knew what those fellows 
were up to, though. Maybe if we waited until 
daylight-” 

“And froze to death! Nothing doing,” chat¬ 
tered Amy. 4 4 Curiosity killed a cat, and although 
I don’t feel exactly kittenish, I refuse to take 
any chances. What time do you suppose it 
is?” 

44 About midnight, I guess.” Clint drew out 
his watch, but he couldn’t even discern the outline 
of it. 44 A fellow’s a fool to go without matches,” 
he muttered disgustedly. 

44 Bet you it’s a whole lot later than that,” said 
Amy. 44 Anyway, let’s get going. Which direc¬ 
tion do you think Wharton is?” 

They debated that for some time after they had 
reached the road, and in the end they decided that 
the town lay to their left, although, as Clint 
pointed out, the men in the automobile had gone in 
the opposite direction. 

4 4 They might be going to Thaeher,” said Amy. 
44 Anyhow, we’re bound to get somewhere in time. 
All I ask of Fortune is a bed and a breakfast; 
and I could do without the bed, I guess. Some¬ 
where in the world, Clint, there are two cups of 


94 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

hot coffee waiting for ns. Is that not a cheering 
thought ?’ ’ 

“I wish I had mine now,” replied the other 
shiveringly. “I dare say we’re headed in the 
wrong direction for Wharton.” 

“Say not so,” exclaimed Amy, whose spirits 
were rapidly returning. “Courage, faint heart! 
Onward to coffee!” 

For awhile they speculated on the mysterious 
mission of the two men in the automobile, but 
neither of them could offer a satisfactory solu¬ 
tion of the problem, and finally they fell silent. 
Fortunately the road ran fairly straight and they 
got off it only once. After they had been walking 
what seemed to them to be about an hour, al¬ 
though there was no way of knowing, Clint called 
attention to the fact that he could see the road. 
Amy replied that he couldn’t, but in a moment 
decided that he could. To the left of them there 
was a perceptible greying of the sky. After that 
morning came fast. In a few minutes they could 
make out dimly the forms of trees beside the way, 
then more distant objects became visible and, as 
by a miracle, the sleeping world suddenly lay 
before them, black and grey in the growing light. 
Somewhere a bird twittered and was answered. 
A chilling breeze crept across a field, heralding 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


95 


the dawn and bringing shivers to the boys. Soon 
after that they came across the first sign of life, 
a farm with a creaking windmill busily at work, 
and a light showing wanly in an upper window 
of the house. 

“Some poor fellow is getting out of a nice, 
warm bed, ’’ soliloquised Amy. ‘ ‘ How I pity him! 
Can’t you see him shaking his fist at the alarm- 
clock and shivering as he gets into his panties!” 

“He’s lucky to have a nice, warm bed,” re¬ 
sponded Clint. “If I had one it would take more 
than an alarm-clock to get me out of it! ” 

‘ ‘ Me too! Say, what do you think about sneak¬ 
ing over there to the stable and hitting the hay 
for a couple of hours! Maybe the chap might 
give us some coffee, too.” 

“More likely he’d set the dog on us at this time 
of morning, ’ ’ answered Clint. And, to lend 
weight to his objection, a challenging bark came 
across the field. 

“Right-o,” agreed Amy. “I didn’t want any 
coffee, anyway. Isn’t that a sign-post ahead! ’ ’ 

It was a sign-post, looming black and forbid¬ 
ding, like a wayside gibbet, where a second road 
turned to the left. “Wharton, 2 M—Levidge’s 
Mills, 4 M—Custer, 6 M,” they read with dif¬ 
ficulty. 


96 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“We can do two miles in half an hour easily,” 
said Amy. “Gee, I can almost smell that coffee, 
Clint!” 

They went on in the growing light, passing 
another farmhouse presently and another un¬ 
friendly dog. The greyness in the east became 
tinged with rose. Birds sang and fluttered. A 
rabbit hopped nimbly across the road ahead of 
them and disappeared, with a taunting flick of 
his little white tail, in the bushes. Further on a 
chipmunk chattered at them from the top of the 
wall and then, with long leaps, raced ahead to 
stop and eye them inquiringly, finally disappear¬ 
ing with a last squeal of alarm. A second sign¬ 
post renewed their courage. Wharton, it de¬ 
clared, was but a mile distant. But that was a 
long, long last mile! They were no longer sleepy, 
but their legs were very tired and the chilly 
breeze still bored through their coats. But their 
journey came to an end at last. Straggling 
houses appeared, houses with little gardens and 
truck patches about them. Then came a factory 
building with row on row of staring windows just 
catching the first faint glow of the sun. Then 
they crossed a railroad and plunged into the 
town. 

But it was a silent, empty town, for this was 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


97 


Sunday morning, and their steps on the brick 
sidewalk echoed lonesomely. The awful thought 
that perhaps there would be no eating-place open 
assailed them and drew a groan of dismay from 
Amy. 44 Still,’’ he declared, “if the worst comes 
to the worst, we can break a window and get taken 
to jail. They feed you in jail, don’t they?” he 
added wistfully. 

But near the centre of town a cheering sight 
met their anxious eyes. A little man in a white 
apron was sweeping the doorway of a tiny res¬ 
taurant, yawning and pausing at intervals to gaze 
curiously toward the approaching travellers. Be¬ 
fore they reached him, however, his curiosity 
either gave out or was sated, for, with a final tap 
of the broom against the doorway, he disappeared. 
“Suppose,” exclaimed Amy, “he changes his 
mind and locks up again ! 9 9 They urged tired feet 
to a faster pace and reached the door. On one 
wide window was the legend: “Cannister’s Cafe.” 
The door was closed but unlocked. They opened 
it and entered. 

There was no one in sight> but from beyond a 
partition which ran across the room at the back 
came the cheering sounds of rattling dishes and 
the heartening fragrance of coffee. There were 
eight small tables and a little counter adorned 


98 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


with a cash register and a cigar case, and these, 
excepting an appropriate number of chairs, com¬ 
prised the furnishings; unless the various signs 
along each wall could be included. These an¬ 
nouncements were printed in blue on grey card¬ 
board, and the boys, sinking into chairs at the 
nearest table, read them avidly: “Beef Stew, 15 
Cents”; “Pork and Beans, 10 Cents”; “Boiled 
Rice and Milk, 10 Cents”; “Coffee and Crullers, 
10 Cents”; “Oysters in Season”; “Small Steak, 
30 Cents”; “Buy a Ticket—$5.00 for $4.50”; 
“Corn Beef Hash, 15 Cents; With 1 Poached 
Egg, 20 Cents.” 

Their eyes met and they smiled. It was pleas¬ 
antly warm in the little restaurant, the sun was 
peeping in at the window, the odour of coffee was 
more delightful than anything they had ever in¬ 
haled and it was extremely good to stretch tired 
legs and ease aching muscles, and for several min¬ 
utes they were content to sit there and feast their 
hungry eyes on the placards and enjoy in antici¬ 
pation the cheer that was to follow. 

“What are you going to have?” asked Amy 
presently. 

“Beans and a lot of bread-and-butter and 
seventy-five cups of coffee,” replied Clint raptur¬ 
ously. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 99 

‘ 4 Corned beef hash for mine. And a lot more 
coffee than that. Say, why doesn’t he come ? ’’ 

Evidently the proprietor had drowned the 
sound of their entrance with the rattle of dishes, 
for the swinging door in the partition remained 
closed and the little ledged window beside it 
showed only a dim vista of hanging pots and 
saucepans. Amy rapped a knife against the edge 
of a glass and the noise at the rear ceased 
abruptly, the door swung open and the man in 
the enveloping white apron viewed them in sur¬ 
prise. He was a bald-headed, pink-faced little 
man with a pair of contemplative blue eyes. 

1 ‘Morning, boys,” he said. “I didn’t hear you 
come in. Don’t usually get customers till most 
seven on Sundays. Want something to eat?” 

4 Wes, can we have something pretty quick?” 
asked Clint. ‘ 4 We ’re nearly starved.” 

‘‘Well, I ain’t got anything cooked, but the 
fire’s coming up fast and it won’t take long. 
What would you want?” 

They made known their wishes and the little 
man leisurely vanished again. A clock above the 
counter announced the time to be twenty-five min¬ 
utes to seven. 

“We might have got him to bring us some 
coffee now,” said Amy. 


100 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“I’d rather wait until I get my breakfast,” 
Clint replied. “I wonder when we get a train 
for Brimfield. I reckon they don’t run very often 
on Sundays.” 

“Maybe this chap can tell us. We’ll ask him 
when he comes back.” 

Other and delicious odours mingled with the 
coffee fragrance, and a promising sound of siz¬ 
zling reached them. “That,” said Amy, settling 
back luxuriously and patting his waistcoat, “is 
my corned beef hash. I sort of wish I’d ordered 
an egg with it. Or, maybe, two eggs. Guess I 
will. Some crullers would taste pretty good, 
wouldn’t they?” 

“Anything would taste good,” agreed Clint 
longingly. 

Ten minutes passed and the door opened to 
admit another customer. After that they drifted 
in by ones and twos quite fast. The boys gath¬ 
ered that the newcomers were men employed at 
the railway yards nearby, and presently Amy 
questioned one who was reading a paper at the 
next table. 

“Can you tell us when we can get a train for 
Brimfield?” he asked. 

“Brimfield? Yes, there’s one at seven-twelve 
and one at nine-forty-six.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


101 


“I guess we couldn’t get the seven-twelve,’’ 
said Amy, glancing at the clock. “The other 
would be all right.” 

“I ain’t sure if that one stops at Brimfield, 
though. Say, Pete, does the nine-forty-six stop 
at Brimfield?” 

“No,” replied a man at another table. “Ex¬ 
press to New York.” 

“You’re wrong,’’ volunteered a third. 44 It runs 
accommodation from here on Sundays.” 

“That’s so,” agreed the other. “I’d forgot.” 

Amy thanked his informant and at that moment 
the proprietor, who had been in and out taking 
orders, appeared with the hoys’ breakfasts. The 
baked beans and the hash were sizzling hot and 
looked delicious, and the coffee commanded in¬ 
stant attention. A plate piled with thick slices 
of bread and two small pats of very yellow butter 
completed the repast. For five minutes by the 
clock not a word was said at that table. Then, 
having ordered a second cup of coffee apiece, the 
boys found time to pause. 

‘ ‘ Gee, but that was good! ’ ’ murmured Amy. ‘ 4 1 
suppose I must have eaten awfully fast, for I 
don’t seem to want those eggs now.” 

44 How about the crullers?” asked Clint. 

“They wouldn’t be half bad, would they? Have 


102 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

some ? ’’ Clint nodded and four rather sad-looking 
rings of pastry appeared. It was still only a 
quarter past seven and, since they could not con¬ 
tinue their journey before nine-forty-six, they con¬ 
sumed the crullers and their second cups of coffee 
more leisurely. The little restaurant began to get 
pretty smoky, and the combined odours of a 
dozen breakfasts, now that they had completed 
their own repasts, failed to delight them. But 
they stayed on, hating the thought of the walk to 
the station, quite satisfied to remain there with¬ 
out moving in the warmth and cheerful bustle. If 
they could have laid their heads against the wall 
and gone to sleep they’d have asked nothing more. 
Amy nodded drowsily once or twice and Clint 
stared out the sunny window with the somnolent 
gaze of a well-fed cat. It was, he reflected, a very 
beautiful world. And then their pleasant day¬ 
dreams were disturbed by the sudden and rather 
boisterous entry of a big, broad-shouldered man 
who seemed to take entire possession of the res¬ 
taurant and quite dwarf its size. 

“Hello, boys!” The newcomer skimmed his 
hat dexterously to a peg, pulled out a chair with 
twice as much noise as usually accompanies such 
an operation and plumped his big body into it 
with a heartiness which almost set the dishes to 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 103 

rattling in the kitchen. Everyone in the room 
except the two boys answered his greeting. 

“Hello, Mike! How’s the lad?” 

‘‘Fine! And hungry to beat the band! Can, 
you old rascal! Where are you? Fry me a couple 
of eggs and some bacon, Can, and draw one.” 

“All right, Mike!” The proprietor’s pink face 
showed for an instant at the window. The new¬ 
comer opened a morning paper with a loud 
rustling, beating the sheets into place with the flat 
of a huge hand. “You fellows hear about the 
burglary?” he asked. 


CHAPTER IX 


UNDER SUSPICION 

“Burglary? No. Where was it?” asked several 
voices. 

“Black and Wiggin’s jewelry store.” 

“Whatf Who says so?” 

14 1 says so! I seen it just now. ’ ’ 

“Saw the burglary?” 

“Naw! Saw where they’d cut a chunk out o’ 
the window and gone in. Where you fellows been 
all morning?” 

“Maybe you did it, Mike,” suggested a small 
man across the room, winking to his neighbour. 

“Maybe I wished I had! ” was the reply. 
4 4 They say they got away with nearly a thousand 
dollars’ worth of stuff. Blew the safe, they did, 
and cleaned it out pretty.” 

“That right? When was this, Mike?” 

“Some time last night. A watchman at the 
collar factory says he seen an automobile stop 
around the corner near the Baptist Church about 
three o ’clock. Says it didn’t have no lights on it. 
He didn’t think much about it, though, he says, 

104 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 105 

and the next time he came round front he looked 
again and it was gone. The papers had it last 
week where there was a job just like that done 
over to Maynard. Two ginks in an automobile 
came along one night and lifted six or eight hun¬ 
dred dollars’ worth of stuff out of a gent’s fur¬ 
nishing shop. If they don’t raise my pay at the 
Yards pretty quick I’m going to hire me an auto¬ 
mobile, fellows.” 

This aroused laughter, and an excited discus¬ 
sion of the burglary followed, during which Mr. 
Cannister quite forgot his orders on the stove and 
was only recalled to them by an odour of scorch¬ 
ing eggs. Two of the customers, having finished 
breakfast, made known their intention of visiting 
the scene of the crime, and went out. At the first 
table inside the door two boys were regarding 
each other with round and inquiring eyes. 

“Do you suppose-«” began Clint. But Amy 

hissed him to silence. 

“Wait till we hear more,” he cautioned. 

But, although they listened with all ears, little 
more information was forthcoming, save that one 
Carey, Chief of the local police, was already busy. 
“He’s telephoned all around,” said Mike, “and 
told them to look out for the automobile. But, 
say, what chance has he got, eh? You can’t stop 


106 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


every automobile that goes through and search 
it for jewelry!” 

“What sort of jewelry did they get, Mike?” 
asked the proprietor. 

“Rings and pins and things like that.” He 
chuckled. “It seems that whoever closed up last 
night left the box they keep their diamonds and 
stones that ain’t set in out of the safe. They 
found it back of the counter this morning. The 
robbers hadn’t ever seen it. I guess they’d be 
good and mad if they knew! ’ ’ 

“Come on,” whispered Amy. They settled 
their checks and left the restaurant, trying to dis¬ 
guise their eagerness. After the door had closed 
behind them the man whom they had asked about 
the Brimfield trains inquired: “Who are those 
boys, Can?” 

“Don’t know. They walked in here about six- 
thirty and wanted some breakfast. Said they was 
nigh starved. Looked it, too. And mighty tired. 
Nice-appearing young fellows. Off on a lark, 
maybe, trampin’ around country.” 

“Thought they were strangers here. Got any 
more coffee, Can?” 

“What do you think?” asked Amy eagerly as 
they walked up the street. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 107 

“I don’t know,” replied Clint doubtfully. 
“What would they be doing there?” 

“Burying the stuff they stole, of course! 
That’s what they did, all right. You see if it 
isn’t. Maybe they’ll offer a reward and all we’ll 
have to do is go there and dig the things up 
and-” 

“I guess we’d better find the police station and 
tell what we know, reward or no reward,” an¬ 
swered Clint. “And another thing we’d better 
do is telephone to school and tell them we aren’t 
dead. We’re going to catch the mischief, any¬ 
way, I reckon, but we might as well save our¬ 
selves all we can. Wonder where there’s a tele¬ 
phone. ’ ’ 

“There’s a blue sign over there in the next 
block, ’ ’ said Amy. ‘ ‘ Who—who’s going to do the 
talking?” 

“Well, you’re pretty fond of it,” suggested 
Clint. 

“Not today! Not on Sundays, Clint! I never 
could talk on Sundays! You’d better do it. And 
get Josh himself, if you can. He’ll like it better 
than if he hears it from an H. M. Tell him we 
got lost and-” 

But Amy’s further instructions were inter¬ 
rupted. A blue-coated policeman who had been 


108 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


observing their approach with keen interest 
hailed them from the curb at the corner. 

“Hello, boys!” he said. “Where’d you come 
from?” 

“We came from Thacher,” replied Clint. 
“That is, we came from there this morning, 
or, rather, last night. We’re from Brimfield, 
really. ’’ 

“Are, eh? Thought you said Thacher. What 
you doing here?” 

“Waiting for a train. We lost our way last 
night and only got here this morning . 9 9 

“Why didn’t you take the seven-o’clock then?” 

“We didn’t know about it until it was too late. 
We were getting some breakfast at a restaurant 
down the street there. We’re going to take the 
nine-forty-six.” 

“The nine-forty-six is an express to New York, 
son. What’s your name? And what’s his?” 

“My name’s Thayer and his is Byrd. We go 
to Brimfield Academy. ’ ’ 

“Ho, eh? Aren’t you a long way from home?” 

“Yes. You see, we went over to Thacher to 
the football game and lost the trolley. And then 
a fellow offered to give us a ride in an automo¬ 
bile as far as this place and we got in and a 
wheel came off and we had to walk the rest of the 


\ 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 109 

way. But we got lost in the woods somewhere 
and-” 

“What sort of a looking fellow was this? The 
one with the auto, I mean? ,, 

4 ‘ Oh, he was about twenty years old, with kind 
of long hair, light-brown, and sort of greyish 
eyes.” 

‘ ‘ Tell you his name ?’ ’ 

“No, sir, we didn’t ask him. He drives the auto 
for some liveryman in Thacher, he said.” 

“Hm. Well, that may be all right, kids, but 
I’ve been instructed to look out for suspicious 
characters this morning, and I guess you’d both 
better step around to the station with me.” He 
smiled. “I don’t suppose the Chief’ll keep you 
very long, but he might like to ask you some ques¬ 
tions. See?” 

The boys nodded not over-enthusiastically and 
accompanied the officer. The police station was 
but a half-block distant on a side street and their 
captor ushered them up the steps and into a room 
where a tall, bushy-whiskered man with much 
gold on his shoulders sat writing at a flat-topped 
desk. 

“Chief, here’s a couple of youngsters I met on 
Main Street just now. I guess they’re all right, 
but I thought maybe you’d like to look ’em over.” 


110 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


The Chief nodded and proceeded to do so. He 
had a most disconcerting stare, had the Chief, and 
the boys began to wonder if they had not, per¬ 
haps, after all performed that burglary! 

“Well, boys,” he said finally, “where do you 
belong ?' ' 

“Brimfield Academy,” replied Amy. 

“Running away, are you?” 

“No, sir, we're trying to get back. We went to 
Thacher yesterday with the football team and 
started over here in a fellow's auto and it broke 
down about—about four miles back and we got 
lost and slept in a sort of hut and got here this 
morning.'' 

“Where was the hut?” asked the official. 

“Just off the road between here and Thacher. 
About four miles, or maybe five.” 

“Nearer six,” corrected Clint. “We walked 
four miles, I guess, before we found that sign¬ 
post.” 

The Chief questioned particularly regarding 
the automobile and its driver, finally taking up the 
telephone and inquiring of the two local garages 
if such a car had been brought in for repairs. 
Both garages replied that they hadn't seen the 
car and the Chief looked back at Amy specula¬ 
tively. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


111 


‘ ‘ He must have gone back and found that nut, ’’ 
said Amy, ‘ ‘ and repaired it himself . 9 9 

‘ ‘Maybe ,’ 9 said the Chief. “Who did you say 
the fellow drove the auto for!” 

“I didn’t say. I’ve forgotten the name. Some 
liveryman in Thacher.” 

“And he was coming here to get the hotel pro¬ 
prietor, eh!” 

“That’s what he said.” 

“And you didn’t see him again?” 

“No, sir, not unless-” 

“Unless what?” 

Am y glanced inquiringly at Clint and Clint 
nodded. 

“Unless he was in the car that stopped at the 
hut in the night,” concluded Amy, “and I don’t 
believe he was.” 

The Chief exchanged a quick look with the po¬ 
liceman and asked indifferently: “Oh, there was 
a car stopped in the night, eh? What for? Who 
was in it ? ” 

“We couldn’t see who was in it. We were 
asleep in the hut and woke up with the light in 
our eyes. Then we heard the car chugging on 
the road and two men got out and came toward 
the hut and sort of—sort of walked around for 
about ten minutes and then went off again.” 


112 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Walked around! What were they walking 
around for!” 

“I don’t know, sir, but-” 

“We think,” interrupted Clint, “that they 
were the men who robbed the jewelry store 
and that they were burying the things the’y had 
stolen. ’’ 

“You do, eh! Who told you any jewelry store 
had been robbed!” 

“We heard some men talking about it at the 
restaurant where we had breakfast.” 

“Where was that!” 

“About five blocks that way,” said Clint. 

“Cannister was the name on the door,” ex¬ 
plained Amy. 

‘ ‘ If you thought the men in the automobile were 
burying something why didn’t you find out what 
it was after they had gone!” 

“We didn’t think that until we got here and 
heard about the burglary. We didn’t know what 
they were doing. It was dark and we had no 
matches. After they had gone we did sort of feel 
around there to see if we could find anything, but 
we couldn’t.” 

“What time was it!” 

“I suppose it was about four o’clock. We 
couldn’t see our watches.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 113 

The Chief held a hand across the desk. “Let 
me see yours,” he said. 

“See what, sir!” asked Clint. 

“Your watch.” Clint took it off and laid it in 
the Chief’s hand. It was a plain and inexpensive 
gold watch and was quite evidently far from new. 
The Chief examined it, opened the back and read 
the number, and referred to a slip of paper beside 
him. Then he asked for Amy’s and smiled as 
Amy passed him his nickel timepiece. 

“All right,” he said, returning them. “What 
did those two men look like! ’ ’ 

“We couldn’t see, sir,” replied Amy. “They 
just had an electric torch and they lighted it only 
twice. We could just see two pairs of legs and 
that was all. And a stick.” 

“A stick!” 

4 4 1 think it was a shovel, ’ ’ said Clint. 

4 4 Were the lights on the car lighted all this 
time!” 

44 No, sir, they put them out.” 

4 4 Could you see the car enough to say whether 
it was a big one or a little one! ’ ’ 

44 No, sir,” said Clint, 44 but I have an idea it 
was sort of small. The engine sounded like it.” 

44 Suppose you give me your names.” They did 
so and the Chief took off the telephone receiver 


114 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


again. “Hello! Get me Brimfield Academy at 
Brimfield. This is Chief Carey. I want to talk 
with the president-” 

“Principal, sir/’ whispered Amy. 

64 With the principal.’’ A minute or two passed 
in silence. Then: “Hello,” said the Chief. “Is 
this Brimfield Academy? Well, who am I talking 
to, please? Mr. Ferner? Fernald?” He looked 
questioningly at Clint and Clint nodded his head. 
“Well, this is the Chief of Police at Wharton. 
Have you got two boys at your school named 
Clinton Thayer and Amory Byrd, Mr. Fernald? 
Have, eh? Are they there now? ... I see. Well, 
I guess I’ve got them here. . . . No, no, nothing 
like that. There’s been a robbery here and the 
boys seem to think they have a clue to it. I wanted 
to find out if they were all right. Yes, they’re 
right here. Certainly, sir. ’ ’ 

The Chief held out the telephone and Clint 
took it. 

“Mr. Fernald? This is Thayer, sir. We’re 
awfully sorry, sir, but we got lost last night and 
had to sleep in a hut near here and we’ve only 
just got here a little while ago. We are coming 
right back, sir.” 

“How did you happen to get lost?” asked the 
principal’s voice. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


115 


Clint explained as best he could. 

4 ‘ Byrd is there with you?’’ 

4 ‘Yes, sir. Do you want to speak to him?” 

‘‘No. Get back here as soon as you can and 
come and see me at once. I want this explained 
a little better, Thayer. That’s all. You’re not— 
um—you’re not in trouble with the police?” 

“No, sir.” 

“All right. Get back on the first train.” 

Clint sighed with relief as he returned the tele¬ 
phone to the desk. 

“Was he very waxy?” asked Amy anxiously. 

“Not very, I reckon,” Clint replied. “He 
wants us to beat it back and see him at once.” 

“I can scarcely restrain my eagerness,” mur¬ 
mured Amy. 

“What train were you thinking of taking?” 
asked the Chief, drawing the telephone toward 
him again. 

“They said there was one at nine-forty-six,” 
replied Clint, “but this—this officer says it doesn’t 
stop at Brimfield.” 

“We’ll soon find out, boys.” The Chief con¬ 
sulted a time-table and nodded. 44 Brimfield at ten- 
fifteen.” He looked at the big clock on the wall. 
44 Seven-forty-five,” he muttered. “I guess we 
can make it.” He put the receiver to his ear 


116 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 


once more. 44 Operator? Wharton, 137-M, please. 
Hello! That you, Gus ? This is Dave Carey. Say, 
Gus, I want an auto to hold five of us besides 
your driver. What say? Yes, right away. Well, 
hunt him up. Get here by eight sure. At the 
station, yes. All right.’’ The Chief returned the 
receiver and leaned back. “I guess,” he said, 
“you boys had better show us where that place is 
and we’ll have a look at it. It doesn’t seem proba¬ 
ble to me that the crooks would hide that stuff 
in a hole, but they might have. If it was getting 
late they might have been afraid they’d get held 
up and searched before they got clear. Anyway, 
we’ll have a look.” 

“Is there any reward for it?” asked Amy. 

“Not that I know of,” laughed the Chief. “I 
guess there’s a reward for the capture of the fel¬ 
lows who did it. If you can show us where they 
are you might make a couple of hundred dollars, 
son. The Jewellers ’ Protective Association would 
be glad to square you.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t get that,” mourned Amy. 
“How much is the stuff worth that they swiped?” 

“Oh, seven or eight hundred, I guess. Wiggin 
didn’t seem to know just what had been taken. 
Here’s a list of some of it, though. Seven 
watches, eleven seals and a lot of pins and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


117 


brooches and studs. They missed the unset 
stones, the thieves did. Bill, you dig up a couple 
of spades somewhere and bring around here by 
eight . 9 9 

The policeman disappeared and the boys seated 
themselves to wait. 


CHAPTER X 


BURIED TREASURE 

Some twenty minutes later they were headed in 
a big seven-seating automobile toward the scene 
of the boys’ early morning adventure. On the 
front seat with the chauffeur sat Chief Carey and 
in the tonneau were Clint and Amy and two po¬ 
licemen, one of them the officer who had taken 
them to the station. At their feet were two brand- 
new spades. 

It was a fine, clear morning and promised to 
be quite warm by noon. But Clint and Amy snug¬ 
gled down into the seat and presented as small 
a portion of their anatomies as was possible to 
the fresh morning breeze that rushed by them. 
They passed the first sign-post and the second 
and the first farm they had seen, but after that 
the road was quite unfamiliar since they had trav¬ 
elled over it in the dark. The car whisked along 
at an even thirty-mile speed until, shortly after 
the farm-house was passed, Clint suggested that 
as neither he nor Amy were certain as to the 
location of the hut the car proceed more slowly. 

118 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


119 


After that a careful look-out was kept. No one 
in the car could recall a hut of any sort along 
the road, and, when they had travelled at least 
eight miles from Wharton without finding it, Chief 
Carey showed signs of impatience. The car was 
stopped and a consultation was held. The hoys 
reiterated their statement that the hut, to the best 
of their knowledge, was between four and six 
miles from Wharton. Finally it was decided that 
they should turn around and go back slowly in 
order that the boys could identify the spot where 
the automobile had met its mishap the afternoon 
before. Clint was not at all certain that he would 
know the place when he saw it again, but Amy 
stoutly asserted that he would recognise it at once. 
And he did. 

There, finally, was the quick turn in the road 
and beyond, still plainly visible, the tracks of the 
auto in the looser soil and turf of the bank and 
meadow. 

“There’s the tree we ran into,” pointed out 
Amy, “and there’s the field we went across. Now 
let’s see. We found a stream there; you can see 
it, can’t you? Then we followed along this side 
of it and up that sort of hill-” 

But beyond that he couldn’t trace their wander¬ 
ings. Woods and pastures ran into each other 


120 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


confusingly. One thing was explained, however, 
or, rather, two things; why they didn’t find the 
trolley line and why they didn’t succeed in reach¬ 
ing the road again. The trolley line, the chauf¬ 
feur explained, was more than a mile distant, and 
the road ahead of them turned widely to the left 
just beyond. They had, consequently, roamed 
over a stretch of country at least two miles broad 
between dirt road and railroad. When they went 
on, which they did very slowly, all hands peered 
intently along the right side of the highway. They 
had proceeded possibly three-quarters of a mile 
when one of the officers called out and the car 
stopped. 

“I think I saw it,” he said. “Anyway, there’s 
something there. Back up a little, Tom.” The 
chauffeur obeyed and the quest was at an end. 
There was the hut, but so hidden by young oak 
trees with russet leaves still hanging that only 
from one point was it noticeable. Out they all 
piled. 

“Now,” said the Chief, “you boys get in there 
and stand just where you did last night and then 
come out and indicate about where those fellows 
dug—if they did dig.” 

Clint and Amy obeyed and the others followed 
slowly across the intervening space. The hut 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 121 

stood further from the road than it had seemed 
to in the night. A good thirty yards separated 
the two, and the yellowing turf of long meadow 
grass was interspersed here and there with clumps 
of goldenrod and asters and wild shrubs and with 
small second-growth trees. At the side of the 
doorway was the tree which they had collided with, 
a twenty-foot white birch. The hut was even more 
dilapidated than they had supposed. It looked as 
if a good wind would send its twisted, sun-split 
grey boards into a heap. Inside, however, with 
the sunlight streaming through doorway, window 
and cracks, it looked more inviting than it had 
at night. Weeds were growing between the rot¬ 
ting boards and in one corner a hornets’ nest as 
big as their heads hung from a sagging rafter. 

44 Gee,” muttered Amy, 44 I’m glad we didn’t ac¬ 
cidentally disturb that, Clint! ’ ’ 

In the doorway they stood and tried to re-enact 
the happenings of the night. It wasn’t easy to 
decide on the spot where the men had stood, how¬ 
ever, but finally they agreed as to its probable 
location and walked toward the road, keeping a 
little to the left, for some fifteen yards. That 
brought them close to a six-foot bush which, they 
decided, was the one Clint had walked into. The 
Chief and the others joined them. 


122 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


4 'About here, you think?” asked the Chief. 

"Yes, sir, as near as we can tell,” replied Clint, 
none too confidently. They viewed the place care¬ 
fully, but, save that the grass seemed a trifle more 
trampled than elsewhere, there was nothing to in¬ 
dicate that the soil had been disturbed. Nothing, 
at least, until one of the officers picked up a torn 
and twisted oak-seedling some sixteen inches long 
which lay a few feet away. It’s brown roots were 
broken as if it had been pulled up by force and 
tossed aside. The Chief nodded and went mi¬ 
nutely over the turf for a space several yards in 
extent, finally giving a grunt of satisfaction. 

"Here you are,” he said, straightening his body 
and pointing the toe of one broad shoe at the 
ground. "They lifted the turf off and put it back 
again. A pretty good job to do in the dark, I 
say. Bring your shovels, men.” 

It was easy enough to see the spot now that 
the Chief had found it. The turf had been cut 
through with a shovel or spade and rolled or lifted 
back. Close looking showed the incision and there 
still remained some loose soil about the roots of 
the grass at one side, although the men had evi¬ 
dently striven carefully to hide all traces of their 
undertaking. In a moment the turf was once more 
up and the spades were plunging into the loosened 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


123 


soil beneath. Clint and Amy watched excitedly. 
Presently one of the officers stopped digging, since 
there was now only room for one spade in the 
excavation. Once there was an expectant pause 
while the digger reached in with his hands and 
grubbed in the moist red gravel. But it was only 
a stone he pulled out. 

The hole was down almost two feet now and 
the Chief was beginning to frown anxiously. 
‘‘They made a good job of it,” he growled. “I 
guess- 

But he forgot to say what he guessed, for just 
at that moment there was an exclamation from 
the officer who was wielding the spade and all bent 
forward as he dropped his implement and reached 
down into the hole. When he straightened up 
again he brought a small bundle wrapped in a 
piece of black rubber sheeting. The Chief seized 
it and unwrapped the sheeting, laying bare a small 
pasteboard box tied with a piece of pink string. 
With the string undone and the lid off one glance 
was enough to show that they had found the stolen 
jewelry. 

“That’s the stuff, all right,” said the Chief with 
satisfaction. “And I guess it’s all here, from the 
looks. You’d better dig down and make sure, 
though.” 


124 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


The officer obeyed, while the others crowded 
around the Chief. The stolen things had been 
tossed carelessly into the box, a few still wrapped 
in squares of tissue paper but the most rattling 
together indiscriminately. There were watches 
and scarfpins and brooches and studs and watch 
charms and several bracelets and one platinum 
and gold chain. The robbers had selected care¬ 
fully, for every article was valuable, although it 
still seemed possible that the Chief’s estimate of 
seven hundred dollars was generous enough. 

“They’ll be some surprised if they ever come 
back for it, won’t they!” asked the chauffeur with 
a chuckle. “Say, Chief, why don’t you set a man 
to watch for ’em!” 

“I would if I knew when they were coming,” 
replied the official drily. “But they may not come 
back here for a month. Maybe they won’t then. 
They won’t if we can get our hands on them,” he 
added grimly. 

The officer who had been probing the hole fur¬ 
ther reported nothing more there, and, well satis¬ 
fied, they returned to the car. 

“I’ll check this up when we get back to the 
station,” said the Chief, tossing the box carelessly 
to the seat. “Black and Wiggin are mighty lucky 
to get it back. They wouldn’t have if it hadn’t 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


125 


been for these chaps. Say, boys, you tell Wiggin 
he ought to give you something for this. You cer¬ 
tainly deserve it.” And the officers agreed. 

4 ‘Oh, if there isn’t any reward offered,” said 
Amy, “we don’t want anything.” 

“Well, he ought to be willing to give you some¬ 
thing. How much time is there before that train 
goes? Most an hour? That’s all right then. 
We’ll go back to the station and I’ll ’phone Wig- 
gin to come around.” 

The return trip was made in quick time and 
almost before they knew it the boys were back 
in the Chief’s office at the station house. The 
Chief wouldn’t consent to their leaving until Mr. 
Wiggin had arrived, although they both declared 
that the jeweller didn’t owe them anything and 
that they mustn’t on any account lose their train. 

“You won’t,” replied the Chief. “You can 
walk to the station in three minutes and you’ve 
still got forty. Sit down there while I check this 
stuff up.” 

They obeyed and looked on while he dumped the 
things from the box to the top of the desk and 
pulled his memorandum toward him. One by one 
he pushed the articles aside and checked the list 
with a pencil. Finally he chuckled. “Wiggin 
didn’t know much more’n half the stuff he lost,” 


126 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

he said. “There’s nine watches here instead of 
seven and a lot more other things than he’s got 
down here on his list. Here he is now, I guess.” 

Mr. Wiggin was a bewhiskered, nervous- 
mannered little man and he hurried into the 
Chief’s office as though he had run all the way 
from his house or store. 

“Well, well, Chief!” he exclaimed breathlessly. 
“So you’ve found it, eh? I want to know! I 
want to know! Got the thieves too, eh?” He 
scowled darkly at Clint and Amy, and Amy was 
heard to assert under his breath that he hoped 
Mr. Wiggin would choke. The Chief laughed. 

“No, we haven’t got the thieves, Mr. Wiggin. 
These boys gave us the clue that led to the stuff. 
Shake hands, boys, with Mr. Wiggin. That’s Byrd 
and that’s Thayer. They’re Brimfield Academy 
fellows, Mr. Wiggin, and they happened to see 
the thieves burying the things about five miles 
out of town toward Thacher.” Whereupon the 
Chief told the story to the jeweller and the latter, 
recovering from his embarrassment, insisted on 
shaking hands again. 

“I want to know!” he ejaculated, beaming at 
them like a pleased sparrow. “I want to know! 
Smart lads, eh, Chief? Now—now ” He hesi¬ 
tated, his eyes darting from Clint to Amy and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 127 

from Amy to the Chief. Then he cleared his 
throat nervously, slapped his hands together 
gently and continued. ‘ ‘ There—hem—there was 

no reward offered, boys, but-” 

<< That’s all right,’ ’ replied Amy briskly. “We 
don’t want anything, Mr. Wiggin.” 

“No, no, of course not, of course not! Only— 
hem—I was thinking that—possibly, say, fifty dol¬ 
lars between you, or-” 

< 4 No, thanks,’’ interrupted Clint. “We’re glad 
we were able to help you recover the things, sir. 
And now I reckon we’ll have to be getting to the 
station.” 

But Mr. Wiggin was the sort who becomes more 
insistent against opposition. Really, the boys 
must take something! Really they must! He ap¬ 
pealed to Chief Carey, and the Chief agreed. 

“Now—now-” continued the jeweller, “say a 

watch apiece, if they didn’t like to take money. 
Just a gold watch. Here were two nice ones!” 

In the end his insistence won, the boys becom¬ 
ing at last too embarrassed and too fearful of 
losing their train to refuse longer. A handsome 
gold watch, not much thicker than a book-cover, 
was attached to Amy’s chain, while Clint, having 
a perfectly good watch already, was invited to 
select something else from the array on the desk 


128 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


and finally allowed himself to become possessed of 
a diamond and ruby scarfpin which was much the 
finest thing he had ever owned. And then, with 
ten minutes to reach the station in, they shook 
hands with the jeweller and Chief Carey and re- 
lievedly hurried out, the Chief’s hearty invitation 
to come and see him again pursuing them into the 
corridor. 

A very few minutes afterwards they were seated 
in the train and speeding toward Brimfield. 

“And now,” said Amy brightly, “all we’ve got 
to do is to give our little song and dance to Josh!” 


CHAPTER XI 


BRIMFIELD MEETS DEFEAT 

The interview with Mr. Fernald was not, how¬ 
ever, the ordeal they had feared. The principal 
pointed out to them that they should have re¬ 
turned from Thacher to Wharton by trolley with 
the other students, and not experimented with a 
strange automobile. When the hoys had shown 
proper contrition for that fault Mr. Fernald al¬ 
lowed a note of curiosity to appear in his voice. 

“Now,” he said, “about this burglary, Byrd. 
What—a—what was all that?” 

So Amy narrated in detail and they exhibited 
their presents and the principal was frankly inter¬ 
ested. He smiled when he returned Clint’s scarf- 
pin. “You young gentlemen had quite an adven¬ 
ture, and I consider that you behaved very—ah— 
circumspectly. I congratulate you on your re¬ 
wards. If I remember rightly, Byrd, you lost a 
watch last Winter. ” 

“Yes, sir, I left it at the rink.” 

“This is much too fine a one to lose. See if you 
can’t hold on to it. You may be excused from 

129 


130 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


church attendance this morning. If you’ll take 
my advice you’ll clean up and then get some sleep. 
As near as I can see you didn’t have much last 
night. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Thank you, sir, ’ ’ said Amy. “I’m sorry we— 
got lost, Mr. Fernald. ’ ’ 

44 Are you, Byrd?” There was a twinkle in the 
principal’s eye. “You know if you hadn’t got 
lost you wouldn’t have a nice new watch!” 

They were challenged several times before they 
reached their room by boys who wanted to know 
where they had been and what had happened to 
them, but both were too sleepy and tired to do 
the subject justice and so they observed a mys¬ 
terious reticence and resisted all pleas. They 
bathed, Amy nearly falling asleep in the tub, and 
then stretched themselves out gratefully on their 
beds. That was the last either knew until, almost 
two hours later, Penny Durkin began an ambitious 
attempt on Handel’s largo in the next room. They 
managed to get to dining hall without being 
penalised for tardiness and ate like wood- 
choppers. 

That evening they went over to Hensey and 
called on Jack Innes and Amy told the story of 
their adventures to a roomful of fellows who ut¬ 
terly refused to believe a word of it until Clint 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


131 


had subscribed to the main facts and the watch 
and scarfpin had been passed around. You could 
scarcely have blamed them for their incredulity, 
either, for the story as Amy told it was wonder¬ 
fully and fearfully embroidered. It was a good 
story, though, a mighty good story. Amy ac¬ 
knowledged that himself! 

44 It’s a wonder/’ jeered Tracey Black, “you 
didn’t stay over at Wharton and help your friend 
the Chief capture the robbers! ’ ’ 

“He wanted us to,” replied Amy gravely, “but 
of course we couldn’t. We gave him some good 
advice, though, and told him he could call us up 
by ’phone if he got stuck. ’ ’ 

“Gee, I’ll bet that was a big relief to him,” said 
Steve Edwards. “I feel sort of sorry for those 
burglars, fellows. They haven’t a ghost of a show 
now. ’ ’ 

Amy smiled tolerantly. 

After that the conversation got around to the 
absorbing subject of football and stayed there 
until the gathering broke up. There was some 
discussion of yesterday’s contest, but more of the 
next Saturday’s game with Morgan’s School. 
Morgan’s was a new opponent on Brimfield’s 
schedule and not a great deal was known about 
its prowess. Black thought, or pretended to think, 


132 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


that the Maroon-and-Grey was in for a beat¬ 
ing, but couldn't give any very convincing rea¬ 
sons. 

“Oh, piffle," grunted Still, “who ever heard of 
Morgan's School until you put it on the schedule, 
Tracey?" 

“I didn't put it on. Lawrence did, naturally. 
And it's silly to say that no one ever heard of 
Morgan's. Just because it isn't near New York 
you think it can't possibly be any good!" 

“Where is it, anyway?" inquired Tom Hall. 

“Manningsville, Delaware," replied the man¬ 
ager. “It's a whopping big school, with about 
three hundred fellows, and last year they licked 
about everyone they met up with. ’' 

‘ ‘ Time, then, they came up here and saw a real 
team," said Marvin. “Bet you we score twice as 
much as they do, Tracey.'' 

“Bet you we don't! Bet you the sodas for the 
crowd!" 

“Got you," answered Marvin, pulling Still's 
pillow further under his head where he lay 
sprawled on the bed. “Get your mouths fixed, 
fellows. Mr. Black's treat!" 

“What do you think, Jack?" asked Edwards. 

“Shucks, I don't know anything about it. And 
I don't see that it matters. If we beat them, all 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


133 


right; if they beat ns, all right. The main thing 
is to play the best we know how and get as much 
fun and profit as we can out of the game. I don’t 
care a brass tack about any of the games except 
Claflin and Chambers. I would like to beat Cham¬ 
bers, after the way they mussed us up last year. 
By the way, fellows, I got word from Detweiler 
this morning and he says he will come about the 
first of November and put in a week or so on 
the tackles and ends. That’s bully news, isn’t 
it?” 

Several agreed enthusiastically that it was, but 
Gilbert, a second team substitute, who was a pro¬ 
tege of Marvin’s, asked apologetically who Det¬ 
weiler was. 

“Joe Detweiler was all-America tackle on the 
Princeton team last year,” responded Captain 
Innes, “and the year before that,, too. He was 
captain here five years ago. ’ ’ 

“Oh, that Detweiler!” said Gilbert. “I didn’t 
know! ’ ’ 

“Your ignorance pains me sorely, Gilbert,” said 
Amy. “You could be excused for not recalling 
the name of the President, for not knowing 
whether Thomas Edison or J. P. Morgan built the 
first steamboat or whether Admiral Dewey was a 
hero or a condition of the weather, but, Gilbert, 


134 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


not to know Detweiler proves you hopeless. I’m 
sorry to say it, but your mind is evidently of no 
account whatever. Detweiler, you poor benighted 
nut, is a Greek of the Grecians! He has a chest 
measurement of ninety-eight inches under-all! 
His biceps are made of Harveyised steel and his 
forceps-” 

“For the love of Mike, Amy, shut up!” begged 
Marvin. 

“Oh, very well! If you want the poor idiot to 
go through life with no knowledge of the impor¬ 
tant—er ” 

“We do!” agreed Innes. 

‘ ‘ Of course I know who Detweiler is, ’ ’ said Gil¬ 
bert, a trifle indignantly. “But there might be 
more than one, mightn’t there! How did I 
know-” 

“More than one Detweiler!” exclaimed Amy 
horrifiedly. “Is there more than one Washing¬ 
ton! More than one Napoleon! More than one 
Huxley! More than one Thackeray! More than 
one—one Byrd!” 

“You bet there are!” asserted Black. “There 
are jays and parrots!” 

“Amy, you’re a crazy nut,” laughed Innes. 

“A nut I may be,” replied Amy with dignity, 
“but I have raisins.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 135 

There was an excruciating howl of agony and 
Amy was violently set upon, deposited on the 
nearer bed and pummelled until he begged for 
mercy. When quiet was restored Edwards asked: 
“Is ‘Boots’ coming back this year, Jack?” 

‘‘Yes, he’ll be here in a day or two, I think. 
Robey had a letter from him last week.” 

“Thought someone said he wasn’t coming 
back,” observed Still. 

“He said in the Spring he didn’t think he 
could,” explained Jack, 4 'but you couldn’t keep 
him away if you tried, I guess. You second team 
fellows will know what hustling means when he 
takes hold of you, Thayer.” 

Clint smiled and looked politely interested, but 
the subject was not continued, for at that mo¬ 
ment, Amy, who had been craftily biding his time, 
reached out and pulled Still’s chair over, and in 
the ensuing confusion the gathering broke up. On 
the way along the Row, Clint asked Amy about 
the mysterious "Boots.” 

"His name is Boutelle,” explained Amy. "We 
call him 'Boots’ for short; a sort of a last name.” 
Amy chuckled gleefully. 

"What’s the joke?” asked Clint. 

"Didn’t you get it? Last name; see? 'Boots’ 
—last!” 


136 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 
“Oh!” 

“Thank yon! I was afraid I’d have to explain 
it for you in a /oo^-note.” 

‘‘ What’s he do ? Coach the second! ’ ’ 

“He do. And he’s a mighty nice chap, 'Boots’ 
is. The fellows were quite crazy about him last 
year. He did good work, too. Turned out a sec¬ 
ond that was some team, believe me! Maybe if 
'Boots’ gets hold of you, Clint, you may amount 
to something. I’ve done what I could for you, but 
I think you’ve got where you need a firmer 
hand.” 

lou re getting where you need a firm foot,” 
laughed Clint. “And I’m the one to apply it!” 

Tut, tut! ” murmured the other. '' Never start 
anything, Clint, you can’t finish. Right wheel, 
march! Oh, dear, Penny is at it again! And I 
had hoped for a quiet evening!” 

The middle of the week Mr. Boutelle arrived 
and the second team got down to business. The 
training-table was started, and including Coach 
Boutelle was made up of sixteen members. 
“Boots” presided at the head and Captain Turner 
at the foot, and Clint was sandwiched in between 
Kingston, who played guard, and Don Gilbert, a 
substitute guard. The team had its own signals 
now and practised on its own gridiron each after- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


137 


noon until it was time to scrimmage with the 
Varsity. Clint was first choice right tackle, with 
Robbins close behind and hard after him. Being 
at training-table was lots of fun, although Clint 
regretted leaving Amy. The latter's dire fore¬ 
bodings regarding the food at the second's table 
proved unjustified. They had plenty to eat and 
of the sort that w T as best for them. Steaks and 
chops and roasts formed the meat diet, eggs ap¬ 
peared at breakfast and supper, there was all the 
milk they could drink, and fresh vegetables and 
light desserts completed the menus. ‘ 4 Boots'' was 
rather strict in the matter of diet and fresh bread 
agitated him as a red flag agitates a bull. Clint 
thought he had never seen so much toast in his 
life as appeared on and disappeared from the 
second team's table that Fall. Another thing that 
“Boots" would not tolerate was water with meals. 
It was, he declared, ruinous to the digestion. “All 
the milk you want, but no water" was “Boots' " 
rule, and in consequence the four big white pitch¬ 
ers that stood in a row down the middle of the 
board had to be refilled at every meal. The boys 
at the training-tables paid a dollar a week extra 
for board, but Clint still felt that he was cheating 
someone and feared it was the cow! 

“Boots" worked them hard, but his own en- 


138 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

thusiasm was so contagious that he soon had them 
as eager as he was, and the afternoon when they 
kept the Varsity from scoring during two twelve- 
minute periods was a red-letter day, and supper 
that evening was almost like a banquet. Fortu¬ 
nately the Varsity table and the second team 
table were separated by the width of the hall. 
Otherwise the Varsity fellows might have taken 
exception to some of the remarks that passed be¬ 
tween the elated second team members. 

That scoreless tie did not take place just yet, 
however. Just now the second was only finding 
itself and the Varsity romped through or around 
it almost at will. The final scrimmage before the 
Morgan’s School contest was on Friday and the 
Varsity had no trouble scoring twice in twenty 
minutes of actual playing time. But even then 
the second was beginning to show possibilities and 
the first team fellows were forced to work hard 
for the two touchdowns they secured. Coach 
Robey was unusually grim that afternoon and so 
many changes were made in the line-up of the 
Varsity that Assistant Manager Morton’s brain 
reeled as he tried to keep track of the players. 
It was suspected that the head coach was far from 
satisfied with the first-string backs and it was pre¬ 
dicted on the stand that afternoon that before the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


139 


season was much older there would be considerable 
of a shake-up in their ranks. Freer was looked 
on as having a good chance to displace Kendall, 
and St. Clair, who although he had been playing 
but one year was developing rapidly into a clever 
half, had many partisans who considered him the 
equal of the veteran Still. 

On Saturday “Boots’’ put the second through 
an hour’s scrimmage and consequently the ’var¬ 
sity game with Morgan’s School was nearly half 
over when Clint and the others pulled on sweaters 
and blankets and hustled across to the nearby 
gridiron and settled to watch. Morgan’s pre¬ 
sented a very husky lot of chaps, long-legged, 
narrow-hipped fellows who appeared to be trained 
to the minute. 

“They look,” confided Clint to Don Gilbert, “as 
if they were all the same height and size and 
style. They must buy ’em by the dozen.” 

Gilbert chuckled. “ ‘Buy them’ is good,” he 
said. “They say half of them don’t pay a cent 
of tuition. Same way with their baseball fellows. 
I know a chap who goes to Prentiss Hall, and 
Prentiss and Morgan’s are rivals, you know. He 
says half the fellows who play football and base¬ 
ball and things at Morgan’s don’t have to pay a 
cent. ’ ’ 


140 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


‘ ‘ Maybe lie’s prejudiced,’ 9 laughed Clint. “ You 
hear a lot of that sort of stuff, Gilbert, and it’s 
always about the other fellow V 9 

66 Well, that’s what Dave Larned says, anyway. 
Say, they are fast though, aren’t they?” ejacu¬ 
lated Gilbert. 

They certainly were, as Brimfield was discover¬ 
ing to her cost. With the second quarter almost 
over and no score by either side, the orange-and- 
blue-stockinged visitors were behaving very much 
as if they meant to put a touchdown over. Mor¬ 
gan’s had secured the ball by fair catch on her 
own thirty-eight yards after a poor attempt at a 
punt by Harris, and now she was turning Brim- 
field’s right flank nicely. Trow, tackle on that 
side, was boxed twice in succession; Roberts, right 
end, was bowled over and two rushes gained first 
down on the twenty-five-yard line. Coach Robey 
sped Holt in for Roberts and Holt managed to 
upset the next play for a yard gain. Then Mor¬ 
gan’s swung her attack against left guard and 
Churchill was caught napping and the whole back- 
field swept over him for four yards. A fake-kick, 
with the ball going to a rangey Morgan’s full-back, 
proved good for the rest of the distance; Edwards 
missing a tackle that would have spoiled the at¬ 
tempt far back of the line. The only thing that 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


141 


saved Brimfield from being scored on then and 
there was the decision of the Orange-and-Blne’s 
quarter-back to pass up a field-goal in favour of 
a touchdown. From the thirteen yards a goal- 
from-field was more than a possibility, but the 
quarter was ambitious and wanted six points in¬ 
stead of three, and so plugged the ball across the 
field to a waiting end on a forward pass. Fortu¬ 
nately for the defenders of the west goal Edwards 
dived into the catcher at the last moment and the 
ball grounded. And then, before another play 
could be pulled off, the whistle blew. 

When the third period began the head coach 
had made many substitutions. Blaisdell had taken 
ChurchilPs place at left guard, Gafferty had gone 
in for Hall in the other guard position, Freer was 
at right half instead of Kendall and Rollins had 
ousted Harris at full-back. Whatever may have 
been said to the Brimfield warriors during that 
fifteen minutes’ breathing space, it brought re¬ 
sults. Marvin speeded the team up and the men 
no longer allowed their opponents to get the jump 
on them each time. In the first five minutes Brim¬ 
field was twice penalised for off-side play. Mar¬ 
vin got away for a thrilling run along the side 
line soon after Morgan’s kicked off, and placed 
the pigskin on the enemy’s thirty-four yards after 


142 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


a gain of over forty. Then Rollins, who was a 
heavily-built, hard-plugging chap, smashed the 
line on the right and, keeping his feet cleverly, 
bored through for six. A forward failed and, on 
third down, Freer punted to the Morgan’s twelve 
yards and both Edwards and Holt reached the 
catcher before he could start. A whirlwind 
double-pass back of the line sent a half around 
Edwards ’ end and gained three, and was followed 
by a skin-tackle play that secured three more past 
Trow. But Morgan’s had to punt then, and a fine 
kick followed and was caught by Still on his forty- 
five. With good interference he secured five be¬ 
fore he was thrown. Brimfield, still working fast, 
reached the opponent’s thirty-five before a punt 
was again necessary. This time Innes passed low 
and Freer kicked into the melee and the pigskin 
danced and bobbed around for many doubtful mo¬ 
ments before Marvin snuggled it under him on the 
Morgan’s forty-three yards. From there a for¬ 
ward went to Still and gained seven, and, playing 
desperately, the Brimfield backs ploughed through 
for two firsts and placed the ball on the twenty- 
yard line. One attempt at the left side lost ground 
and a delayed pass followed by a plunge at centre 
secured but three yards. Rollins then dropped 
back to the twenty-five and, with the stand very 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 143 

quiet, dropped the ball over for three points and 
the first score of the game. 

Brimfield applauded relievedly and Morgan’s 
kicked off again. But the period ended a minute 
later and the teams changed goals. Morgan’s 
put in three substitutes, one, a short, stocky guard, 
leading Clint to remark that the Orange-and- 
Blue’s supply of regular goods had given out. 
But that new guard played real football and 
braced up his side of the line so that Brimfield 
soon left it respectfully alone and applied its ef¬ 
forts to the other. Injuries began to occur soon 
after the final ten minutes commenced and two 
Morgan’s and two Brimfield players retired to the 
side lines. Brimfield lost Captain Innes and 
Trow. Innes’ injury was slight, but Trow got a 
blow on the back of his head that prevented him 
from realising what was going on for several 
minutes. 

Morgan’s came back hard in that last quarter 
and soon had the Maroon-and-Grey on the de¬ 
fensive. A fumbled punt by Carmine, who had 
taken Marvin’s place a minute before, was se¬ 
cured by a Morgan’s end and the aspect of the 
game changed very suddenly. The Orange-and- 
Blue was now in possession of the ball on Brim- 
field’s twenty-six yards, and it was first down. 


144 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Coach Robey rushed Hall and Churchill back to 
the line-up, evidently well weighted down with 
instructions, and, after a conference with clustered 
heads, Brimfield faced the enemy again. Mor¬ 
gan’s adopted old-style football with a vengeance 
and hurled her backs at the line between tackles. 
Twice she was stopped, but on a third attempt 
Brimfield broke squarely in two where Thursby 
was substituting Captain Innes and half the visit¬ 
ing team piled through. First down was secured 
on another attack at the same place and the ball 
was on the defender’s sixteen yards. Two yards 
more came past right tackle and two through 
centre—Morgan’s had discovered the weakness of 
Thursby’s defence—and the ten-yard line was al¬ 
most underfoot. A conference ensued. Evidently 
some of the enemy were favouring a field-goal, 
but the quarter still held out for all the law would 
allow and a line-shift was followed by a quick toss 
of the ball to one side of the field. Luckily for 
the home team, however, it was Steve Edwards’ 
side that was chosen, and Edwards, while he was 
not quick enough to prevent the catch, stopped the 
runner for a yard gain. It was third down then, 
with the ball out of position for a field-goal and 
ten yards to a touchdown and the Brimfield sup- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


145 


porters, urging their team to 44 Hold ’em!” 
breathed easier. 

“Fourth down! Five to go!” announced the 
referee. 

“Stop ’em!” panted Marvin. 

Then the Morgan’s drop-kicker moved back to 
the twenty-yard line and well to the left of centre, 
and centre stood sidewise as though to make an 
oblique pass. It hardly seemed possible that Mor¬ 
gan’s would attempt a goal from such an angle, 
but still there was but one down left and the 
Brimfield line, though it had yielded short gains, 
was not likely to give way to the enemy for the 
five yards necessary for a first down. Captain 
Innes watched the Orange-and-Blue formation 
doubtfully, striving to guess what was to develop. 
In the end he scented a fake-kick and warned his 
line. 

“Fake!” he shouted. “Fake! Watch that ball! 
Get that end, Steve! Hold ’em, hold ’em, Brim- 
field!” 

And Brimfield held them. At least, Brimfield 
held all but one of them. It was unfortunate that 
that one should have been the one who had the 
ball! Just what really happened was a matter of 
discussion for many days. It occurred so sud¬ 
denly, with such an intricate mingling of backs and 


146 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

forwards, that Brimfield was unable then or later 
to fathom the play. Even from the side line, 
where Coach Robey and a dozen or more substi¬ 
tutes looked on intently, that play was puzzling. 
All that seemed clear then or afterwards was that 
the ball did actually go to the drop-kicker, that 
that youth swung his leg in the approved fashion, 
that one of the backs—some said the quarter, while 
others said one of the halves—ran back and took 
the pigskin at a hand-pass, and that subsequently 
a tackle who had played on the end of the line 
was seen tearing across the goal line well toward 
the other side of the field. There had undoubtedly 
been a lateral pass, perhaps two, but the Mor¬ 
gan’s players had so surrounded the play that 
the whole thing was as unfathomable as it was 
mysterious and as mysterious as it was unex¬ 
pected. The one fact that stood out very, very 
clearly was that the enemy had scored a touch¬ 
down. And, although she afterwards failed to 
kick the goal, she had accomplished enough to 
humble Brimfield. In the two minutes remaining 
the home team played desperately, trying its hard¬ 
est to secure the ball and get away for a run. But 
the visitors refused to yield possession and the 
whistle sounded a defeat for the Maroon-and- 
Grey. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 


147 


“I think/’ said Manager Black to Quarter-back 
Marvin as they met at the entrance to the gym¬ 
nasium, “I’ll take a walnut sundae.’’ 

What Quarter-hack Marvin replied to Manager 
Black was both impolite and forceful. 


CHAPTER XII 


PENNY LOSES HIS TEMPER 

What annoyed Brimfield Academy most about 
that beating was the fact that Morgan’s School 
was a stranger. Being defeated in early season 
was nothing to he sore about; it happened every 
year, sometimes several times; and the score of 
6 to 3 was far from humiliating; but to be de¬ 
feated by a team that no one had ever heard about 
was horribly annoying. Of course Tracey Black 
insisted to all who would listen that Morgan’s, 
instead of being unknown to fame, was in reality 
a strong team with a fine record behind it and an 
enviable reputation in its own part of the world. 
But Tracey didn’t convince anyone, I think, and 
the school continued to be disgruntled for the 
better part of a week, or possibly until the ’varsity 
went away the following Saturday and won a 
clean-eut victory from Benton Military Academy. 
Last year the two schools had played a no-score 
tie game and consequently the Maroon-and-Grey’s 
victory this year was more appreciated. 

148 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


149 


Meanwhile Marvin had settled his wager at the 
village soda fountain and had listened with com¬ 
mendable patience to Tracey’s “I-told-you-so” re¬ 
marks. All that Marvin said was, when Tracey 
had rubbed it in sufficiently': 4 ‘There’s just one 
thing you want to do, Tracey, and that is get a 
date with those guys for next year. I won’t be 
here, but it’ll do me a whole lot of good to hear 
that we have rammed that old touchdown down 
their throats with one or two more for good 
measure.” 

“Say, you’re not sore or anything, are you?” 
laughed Tracey. 

“Never you mind. I can take a licking as well 
as the next chap, but when a team works a sleight- 
of-hand gag on you, that’s something different 
yet!” 

“I’ll bet anything!” said Steve Edwards, 
1 ‘that they had two balls that day! If they didn’t, 
I’m blessed if I can see how they got that one 
across the field there.” 

“Maybe that chap who made the touchdown had 
a string tied to it,” suggested Still. “That 
wouldn’t be a bad scheme, eh?” 

“I don’t know how they did it,” said Marvin 
soberly, setting down his empty glass with a last 
fond look, “but if you take my advice, Tracey, 


150 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


you’ll have it understood next year that there’s 
to be no miracles! ’ ’ 

Clint regretted that defeat, but it didn’t affect 
his spirits any. As a matter of fact, Clint had 
reached a state of second team patriotism that 
precluded his being heart-broken about anything 
save a humiliating beating of the second. And 
most of the other members of Mr. Boutelle’s con¬ 
stituency felt the same way. It was regrettable 
to have the school team worsted, but the main 
thing in life was the glory of the second. If Coach 
Robey had suggested that Clint should throw in 
his lot with the ’varsity just then Clint might have 
felt flattered but he would probably have gently 
and firmly declined the promotion. “Roots,” in 
short, had in a bare fortnight endowed his charges 
with an enthusiasm and esprit de corps that was 
truly remarkable. “Anyone would think,” said 
Amy one day when Clint had been singing the 
praises of the second team, ‘ 4 that you dubs were 
the only football players in school. Ever hear 
of the ’varsity team, Clint? Of course I may be 
mistaken, but I’ve been given to understand that 
they have one or two fairly good men on the 
’varsity. ’ ’ 

Clint grinned. “That’s what they tell you, 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 151 

“Well, of all the swank!” exclaimed the other 
incredulously. 

“What’s that?” 

“Side, swelhheadedness, dog, intolerable con¬ 
ceit—er-” 

“That’ll do. You talk like a dictionary of syn¬ 
onyms.” 

“You talk like a blooming idiot! Why, don’t 
you know that the second team is nothing on 
earth but the ‘goat’ for the ’varsity?” 

“Yes, and the ‘goat’ butts pretty hard some¬ 
times,” chuckled Clint. 

Amy threw up his hands in despair. “You 
fellows are so stuck on yourselves,” he said finally, 
“that I suppose you’ll be expecting Robey to dis¬ 
charge the ’varsity and let you play against 
Claflin!” 

“He might do worse, I dare say,” returned 
Clint carelessly. 

“Might do- Here, I can’t stand this! I’m 

going out! Where’s my cap ? ’ ’ And Amy fled. 

Clint didn’t see a great deal of Amy those days 
except during study hour, for Amy was busy with 
the Fall Tennis Tournament. Besides playing in 
it he was managing it, and managing it entailed 
much visiting in the evenings, for the tournament 
insisted on getting horribly mixed up every after- 



152 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


noon owing to the failure of felloes to play when 
they were supposed to, and it was one of Amy’s 
duties to hunt up the offenders and threaten them 
with all sorts of awful fates if they didn’t arise 
at some unseemly hour the next morning and 
play off the postponed match before Chapel. 
Clint went over to the courts one afternoon before 
practice in the hope of seeing his room-mate per¬ 
form. But Amy was dashing around with a score- 
sheet in hand and the matches in progress were 
not exciting. 

“Who’s going to win?” asked Clint when Amy 
had subsided long enough to be spoken to. “Or, 
rather, who’s going to get second place?” 

“Second place? Why second place?” asked 
Amy suspiciously. 

“Just wondered. Of course, as you’re running 
the thing you’ll naturally get first place, Amy. 
I was curious to know who you’d decided on for 
second man. ’ ’ 

Amy laughed. “Well, it will probably be Holt, 
if he can spare enough time from football practice 
to play. He’s had a match with Lewis on for two 
days now. They’ve each won a set and Holt can’t 
play in the afternoon and Lewis refuses to get 
up early enough in the morning. And there you 
are!” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 153 

“Why don’t yon award the match to yourself by 
default?” inquired Clint innocently. 

“To myself? How the dickens- Oh, get 

out of here! ’ ’ 

Clint got out and as he made his way across 
to the second team gridiron he heard Amy’s im¬ 
passioned voice behind him. 

“Say, Grindell, where under the Stars and 
Stripes have you been? Lee has been waiting here 
for you ever since two o’clock! You fellows cer¬ 
tainly give me a pain! Now, look here-” 

Clint chuckled. ‘ 4 Funny, ’ ’ he reflected, 4 ‘ to get 
so excited about a tennis tournament. Now, if it 
was football-” 

Clint shook his head over the vagaries of his 
friend and very soon forgot them in the task of 
trying to keep the troublesome Robbins where he 
belonged, which, in Clint’s judgment, was among 
the second team substitutes. That was a glorious 
afternoon for the second team, for they held the 
’varsity scoreless in the first period and allowed 
them only the scant consolation of a field-goal in 
the second. “Boutelle’s Babies,” as some wag¬ 
gish first team man had labelled them, went off 
in high feather and fancied themselves more than 
ever. 

Clint smiled at himself all the way to his room 



154 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


afterwards. He had played good football and had 
thrice won praise from “Boots’’ that afternoon. 
Even Jack Innes had gone out of his way to say 
a good word. He had clearly out-played Saunders, 
the Varsity left tackle, on attack and had held 
his own against the opposing end on defence. 
More than that, he had once nailed the redoubtable 
Kendall well behind the line, receiving an ex¬ 
tremely hard look from the half-back, and had 
on two occasions got down the field under the punt 
in time to tackle the catcher. Yes, Clint was very 
well satisfied with himself today, so well pleased 
that the fact that he had bruised his left knee so 
that he had to limp a little as he went upstairs 
didn’t trouble him a mite. He hoped Amy would 
be back from that silly tennis tournament so that 
he might tell him all about it. But Amy wasn’t 
back, as he discovered presently. What met his 
eyes as he opened the door from the staircase well, 
however, put Amy quite out of his mind for 
awhile. 

The door of his own room was closed, but the 
doors of 13 and 15 were open, and midway be¬ 
tween them a rather startling drama was being 
enacted. The participants were Penny Durkin, 
Harmon Dreer and a smaller boy whose name 
afterwards transpired to be Melville. Melville 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


155 


was no longer an active participant, though, when 
Clint appeared unnoted on the scene and paused 
across the corridor in surprise. It was Penny 
and Harmon Hreer who held the centre of the 
stage. 

i6 What are you butting in for?” demanded 
Hreer angrily. “I’ll cuff the kid if I want to. 
You get out of here, Penny.” 

“You weren’t cuffing him,” replied Penny hotly. 
“You were twisting his arm and making him cry. 
Now you let the kid alone, Dreer. If you want to 
try that sort of thing you try it on me.” 

“All right!” Dreer stepped forward and shot 
his closed fist into Penny’s face. The blow missed 
its full force, since Penny, seeing it coming, 
dodged so that it caught him on the side of the 
chin. But it was enough to send him staggering 
to the wall. 

“You keep out of it, you skinny monkey!” 
shouted Dreer. “All you’re good for is to make 
rotten noises on that beastly fiddle of yours! 
Want more, do you?” 

Penny evidently did, for he came back with a 
funny sidelong shuffle, arms extended, and Dreer, 
perhaps surprised at the other’s pluck, moved cau¬ 
tiously away. 

“You’ve had what was coming to you, Durkin,” 


156 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


lie growled. “Now yon keep away from me or 
you’ll get worse. Keep away, I tell yon!” 

But Penny Durkin suddenly jumped and landed, 
beating down the other’s guard. Dreer staggered 
back, ducking his head, and Penny shot a long arm 
around in a swinging blow that caught the other 
under his ear and Dreer’s knees doubled up under 
him and he sprawled on the threshold of his 
room. 

‘ 4 Durkin! ’ • cried Clint. 4 4 Stop it! ” 

Penny turned and observed Clint quite calmly, 
although Clint could see that he was trembling in 
every nerve and muscle. 

4 ‘I’m not going to touch him again,” replied 
Penny. 

44 I should think not!” Clint leaned over the 
motionless Dreer anxiously. “Here, take hold of 
him and get him inside. You help, too, kid, what¬ 
ever your name is. Get him on the bed and shut 
the door. That was an awful punch you gave him, 
Durkin. ’ ’ 

44 Yes, he can’t fight,” replied Penny unemotion¬ 
ally, as he helped carry the burden to the bed. 

4 4 He’ll be all right in a minute. I jabbed him 
under the ear. It doesn’t hurt you much; just 
gives you a sort of a headache. Wet a towel and 
dab it on his face.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


157 


''What the dickens was it all about, anyway?” 
asked Clint as he followed instructions. 

“Well, he was twisting young Melville’s arm 
and the kid was yelling and-” 

“You’d have yelled yourself,” muttered the 
boy, with a sniffle. 

“I came out and told him to stop it and he 
didn’t. So I pulled the kid away from him and he 
got mad and punched me in the cheek. So I went 
for him. He’s a mean pup, anyway, Hreer is.” 

The subject of the compliment stirred and 
opened his eyes with a groan. Then he looked 
blankly at Clint. “Hello,” he muttered. 

4 4 What’s the-’ ’ At that moment his gaze trav¬ 

elled on to Penny and he scowled. 

44 All right, Durkin,” he said softly. 44 I’ll get 
even with you, you—you——” 

44 Cut it out,” advised Clint. 44 How do you 
feel?” 

“All right. Tell him to get out of my room. 
And that kid, too.” 

Penny nodded and retired, herding Melville be¬ 
fore him, followed by the scowling regard of 
Dreer. 

Clint tossed the towel aside. 44 I’ll beat it, too, 
I guess,” he said. 4 4 You’ll be all right if you lie 
still awhile. So long.” 



158 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“Much obliged,” muttered Dreer, not very 
graciously. “I’ll get square with that ugly 
pup, though, Thayer. You hear what I tell 
yon! ’ ’ 

“Oh, call it off,” replied Clint cheerfully. 

‘ ‘ You each had a whack. What more do you want ? 
So long, Dreer.’’ 

“Long,” murmured the other, closing his eyes. 
“Tell him to—look out—Thayer.” 

Clint’s first impulse was to seek Penny, but be¬ 
fore he reached the door of Number 13 the strains 
of the fiddle began to be heard and Clint, with a 
shrug and a smile, sought his own room. 

He spread his books on the table, resolved to 
do a half-hour’s stuffing before supper. But his 
thoughts wandered far from lessons. The scrap 
in the corridor, Penny’s unexpected ferocity, the 
afternoon’s practice, the folks at home, all these 
subjects and many others engaged his mind. Be¬ 
yond the wall on one side Penny was . scraping 
busily on his violin. In the pauses between exer¬ 
cises Clint could hear Harmon Dreer moving 
about behind the locked door that separated Num¬ 
bers 14 and 15. Then the door from the well 
swung open, footsteps crossed the hall and Amy 
appeared, racket in hand. After that there was 
no more chance of study, for Clint had to tell of 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


159 


the fracas between Penny and Dreer while Amy, 
stretched in the Morris chair, listened interest¬ 
edly. When Clint ended Amy whistled softly and 
expressively. 

“Think of old Penny Durkin scrapping like 
that!” he said. Then, with a smile, he added 
regretfully: “Wish I’d seen it! Handed him a 
regular knock-out, eh? What do you know about 
that? Guess I’ll go in and shake hands with 
him!” 

“Dreer?” asked Clint innocently. 

“Dreer! Yah! Penny. Someone ought to 
thank him on behalf of the school. Who was the 
kid? Charlie Melville?” 

“I didn’t hear his first name,” replied Clint, 
nodding. 

“He’s a young rotter. Dare say he deserved 
what Dreer was giving him, although I don’t be¬ 
lieve in arm-twisting. Dreer ought to have 
spanked him.” 

“Then you don’t think Penny had any right 
to interfere!” 

“Don’t I? You bet I do! Anyone has a right 
to interfere with Harmon Dreer. Anyone who 
hands him a jolt is a public benefactor.” 

“I fear you’re a trifle biased,” laughed Clint. 

“Whatever that is, I am,” responded Amy 


160 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


cheerfully. “What was Melville doing to arouse 
the gentleman’s wrath?” 

“I didn’t hear the details. Dreer assured me 
twice that he was going to get even with Penny, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Piffle! He hasn’t enough grit! Penny should 
worry! Say, what are you making faces about?” 

“I—it’s my knee. I got a whack on it and it 
sort of hurts when I bend it.” 

“Why didn’t you get it rubbed, you silly 
chump. Let’s see it.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, it’s nothing. It ’ll be all right tomorrow. ’ ’ 

“Let—me—see—it!” commanded Amy sternly. 
“Well, I’d say you did whack it! Stretch out 
there and I’ll rub it. Oh, shut up! I’ve rubbed 
more knees than—than a centipede ever saw! Be¬ 
sides, it won’t do to have you laid up, Clint, old 
scout. Think of what it would mean to the second 
team—and the school—and the nation! I shudder 
to contemplate it. That where it is? I thought 
so from your facial contortions. Lie still, can’t 
you? How do you suppose I can—rub if—you— 
twist like—that!” 

“Don’t be so—so plaguey enthusiastic!” 
gasped Clint. 

“Nonsense! Grin and bear it. Think what it 
would mean if you were lost to the team!” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 161 

6 ‘ Oh, dry up, ’’ grumbled Clint. 4 ‘ How did you 
get on with your silly tennis today V 9 

“All right. We’ll finish up tomorrow, I guess. 
I play Kennard in the morning. He’s a snap.” 

“Why don’t you pick out someone who can 
play? Don’t win the tournament too easily, Amy. 
They’ll get onto you.” 

“That’s so, but I can’t afford to take any 
chances. There you are! Now you’re all right. 
Up, Guards, and at them!” 

“I’m not a guard; I’m a tackle,” corrected 
Clint as he experimentally bent his knee up and 
down. “It does feel better, Amy. Thanks.” 

“Of course it does. I’m a fine little massewer. 
Let’s go and eat.” 

But the next morning that knee was stiff and 
painful and although Amy again administered to 
it, it was all Clint could do to hobble to Wendell 
for breakfast. “Boots” sternly demanded an im¬ 
mediate examination and an hour later Clint was 
bandaged about his knee like a mummy and told 
to keep away from practice for several days and 
not to use his leg more than he had to. He limped 
out of the Physical Director’s room in the gym¬ 
nasium with the aid of a cane which Mr. Conklin 
had donated and with a dark scowl on his 
face. 


162 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Of all the mean luck!” he muttered disgust¬ 
edly. “Just when I was going well, too! Now, 
I suppose, Robbins will get my place, hang him l 
Bet you this settles me for the rest of the 
season!” 


CHAPTER XIII 


AMY WINS A CUP 

In the afternoon Clint hobbled down to the tennis 
courts to watch the final match in the tournament 
between Amy and Holt. They were hard at it 
when he arrived and half a hundred enthusiasts 
were looking on and applauding. Clint didn’t 
play tennis and thought it something of a waste 
of time. But today he had his eyes opened some¬ 
what. Amy was a brilliant player for his years, 
and Holt, who was a substitute end on the ’var¬ 
sity football team, was scarcely less accomplished. 
In fact, Holt had secured the lead when Clint 
reached the court and the score of the first set 
was 5—2 in his favour. 

‘‘Byrd hasn’t found himself yet,” volunteered a 
boy next to Clint. 4 ‘He lost two games on his 
service. Banged the balls into the net time after 
time. He’ll get down to work presently, though, 
I guess.” 

Even as Clint’s informant ended there came a 
burst of handclapping and Harry Westcott, who 
163 


164 LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 

was umpiring, announced: “The games are 5—3. 
Holt leads.” 

Amy had the service and secured two aces at 
once, Holt returning twice into the net. Then a 
double fault put the score 30—15. Holt got the 
next service and lobbed. Amy ran up and 
smashed it safe into the further corner of the 
court. Again Holt tried lobbing, and this time 
he got away with it, for Amy drove the ball out. 
With the score 40—30, Amy served a sizzling ball 
that Holt failed to handle and the games were 
5—4. The boy beside Clint chuckled. 

“He’s getting down to work now,” he said. 

But Amy’s hope of making it five—all died 
quickly. Holt won on his first service and al¬ 
though Amy returned the next he missed the back 
line by an inch. Holt doubled and the score was 
30—15. Amy tried to draw Holt to the net and 
pass him across court, but Holt secured applause 
by a difficult back-hand return that just trickled 
over the net and left Amy standing. The set ended 
a minute later when Amy drove the service 
squarely into the net. 

“Holt wins the first set,” proclaimed Westeott, 
“six games to four.” 

The adversaries changed courts and the second 
set started. Again Amy won on his service and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


165 


again lost on Holt’s. There were several good 
rallies and Amy secured a round of hearty ap¬ 
plause by a long chase down the court and a high 
back-hand lob that Holt failed to get. Amy was 
playing more carefully now, using easier strokes 
and paying more attention to placing. But Holt 
was a hard man to fool, and time and again Amy’s 
efforts to put the ball out of his reach failed. The 
set worked back and forth to 4—all, with little 
apparent favor to either side. Then Amy sud¬ 
denly dropped his caution and let himself out 
with a vengeance. The ninth game went to forty- 
love before Holt succeeded in handling one of the 
sizzling serves that Amy put across. Then he 
returned to the back of the court and Amy banged 
the ball into the net. A double fault brought the 
score to 40—30, but on the next serve Amy again 
skimmed one over that Holt failed with and the 
games were 5—4. 

“I hope he gets this,” murmured Clint. 

“Hope he doesn’t,” replied his neighbour. “I 
want to see a deuce set. ’ ’ 

So, apparently, did Holt, but he was too anx¬ 
ious and his serves broke high and Amy killed 
two at the start. Then came a rally with both 
boys racing up and down the court like mad and 
the white ball dodging back and forth over the 


166 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


net from one side to the other. Holt finally se¬ 
cured the ace by dropping the ball just over the 
canvas. Amy, although he ran hard and reached 
the ball, failed to play it. Another serve was 
returned low and hard to the left of the court, 
came back in a high lob almost to the back line, 
sailed again across the canvas with barely an 
inch to spare and finally landed in the net. Holt 
looked worried then. If he lost the next ace he 
would have lost the set. So he tried to serve one 
that would settle the matter, but only banged 
it into the net. The next one Amy had no trouble 
with and sped it back along the side line to the 
corner. But Holt was there and got it nicely 
and again lobbed. Amy awaited with poised 
racket and Holt scurried to the rear of the court. 
Then down came Amy’s racket and the ball sailed 
across almost to the back line and bounded high, 
and although Holt jumped for it, he missed it and 
it lodged hard and fast in the back net. 

“Byrd wins the set, 6—4! The score is one 
set each! ’ ’ 

Amy, passing the end of the net to change 
court, stopped a moment in front of Clint. 
“How’s the knee?” he asked. 

“Rotten, thanks. Say, I thought you said you 
weren’t taking chances, Amy.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


167 


Amy grinned and doubling up the towel with 
which he had been wiping his face and hands let 
it drive. Clint caught it and draped it over his 
knees. “Go on and take your beating/’ he 
taunted. 

But it was quite a different Amy w T ho started 
in on that third and deciding set. Holt never 
had a real chance after the first two games. Amy 
took them both, the first 50—0 on his service and 
the second 30—50 on Holt’s. After that Amy 
found himself and played tennis that kept the 
gallery clapping and approving most of the time. 
It was only when he had run the set to 4—0 that 
he eased up a little and allowed Holt the consola¬ 
tion of one game. The next went to deuce and 
hung there some time, but Amy finally captured 
it. By that time Holt’s spirit was pretty well 
broken and he put up scarcely any defence in the 
final game and Amy slammed his serves over 
almost unchallenged and won a love game. 

“Game, set and match to Byrd!” announced 
Westcott above the applause. “Byrd wins the 
School Championship! ’ ’ 

Amy and Holt shook hands across the net and 
Clint, hobbling up, tossed Amy the towel. “Got 
a conundrum for you, Amy,” he said. “Want to 
hear it?” 


168 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“Shoot!” replied Amy, from behind the towel. 

“Why are you like a great English poet?” 

“Give it up. Why, Mr. Johnsing, am I like a 
great English poet?” 

“Because,” replied Clint, edging away, “you 
surely can play tennis, son!” 

“Play ten- Oh! Help! Officer, arrest this 

man! ’ ’ 

‘Huh,” said Clint, “that’s a better joke than 
you ever sprung. Where are you going?” 

“To get that nice pewter mug over there and 
then to the gym for a shower. Come along and 
then I’ll go over with you and watch that won¬ 
derful team of yours bite holes in the turf.” 

Some of the fellows who remained demanded 
a speech when Amy accepted the trophy from 
Westcott. 

“Fellow-citizens,” responded Amy, “I can only 
say that this is the proudest moment of my young 
and blameless life. Thank you, one and all. 
Where’s the flannel stocking that goes with this, 
Harry?” 

The bag couldn’t be found, however, and Amy 
bore away his prize without it. They paused at 
a neighbouring court to watch for a moment a 
white-clad quartette of boys who were battling 
for the doubles championship. “Semi-final 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


169 


round,” explained Amy. “The winners meet 
Scannel and Boynton tomorrow. It’ll be a good 
match. What’s the score, Hal'?” 

“Brooks and Chase have won one set and 
they’re three—love on this, Amy,” replied the 
boy addressed. 

“Thought so,” said Amy. “I picked them to 
meet Scannel and Boynton. And I’ll bet they 
beat ’em, too.” 

“Why didn’t you enter the doubles?” asked 
Clint. 

“Oh, I had enough to do looking after the 
thing,” replied Amy, “and getting through the 
singles.” 

Clint smiled. “I reckon the real reason was 
that you didn’t want to hog the show and take 
both prizes, eh?” 

“No fear of that, I guess,” answered the other 
evasively. “Aren’t you coming over to the gym 
with me?” 

“I’ll wait for you over yonder,” said Clint. 
“Conklin says I mustn’t use this leg very much. 
Hurry up and come back. I’ll be on the stand 
over there.” 

The second was still practising when Clint 
reached the seats, some of them tackling the 
dummy in the corner of the field and others, backs 


170 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


and ends these, catching pnnts. Over on their 
own gridiron the Varsity was hard at it, the two 
squads trotting and charging about under the 
shrill commands of Marvin and Carmine. Pres¬ 
ently the rattle and bump of the dummy ceased 
and the tackling squad returned to the gridiron 
and “Boots” cleared the field for signal work. 
The backs and ends came panting to the bench, 
and Captain Turner, spying Clint in solitary 
grandeur, walked over to the foot of the stand. 
“How’s the knee, Thayer?” he asked anxiously. 
“Much better, thanks,” replied Clint, more op¬ 
timistically than truthfully. Turner nodded. 

That’s good, ’’ he said approvingly. ‘ ‘ Go easy 
with it, old man, and don’t take chances. Conklin 
says it’s only a bruise, but knees are funny things. 
You don’t want to get water on it. We need you 
too much, Thayer. Come on down to the bench. ’ ’ 
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for Byrd. Did 
Conklin say how long I’d be out?” 

“No, but you needn’t worry, I guess. A couple 
of days more will put you all right.” Turner 
nodded and hurried back to where “Boots” was 
making the line-up. When the squad took the 
field Clint saw that Cupples had taken his place 
at right tackle and that Robbins was at left. This, 
he reflected with some satisfaction, was doubtless 









LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


171 


because Robbins was not quite so good as he, 
Clint, and the left of the ’varsity line was the 
strongest. Hinton’s piping voice sang the sig¬ 
nals and the squad, followed by the substitutes, 
began its journeys up and down the gridiron. 
Amy joined Clint presently, still lugging his 
pewter trophy, and the two boys leaned back 
against the seat behind them and looked on. 
Clint, when the squad was near enough for him to 
hear the signal, translated for Amy’s benefit, as: 
44 Right half outside of left guard. Watch it!” 
or 44 Here’s a forward to Turner, Amy. There 
he goes! Missed it, though. That was a punk 
throw of Martin’s.” 

44 It’s all well enough for you fellows to pre¬ 
tend that you know what’s going to happen when 
the quarter-back shouts a lot of numbers to you, ’ ’ 
observed Amy, hugging his knees and exposing 
a startling view of crushed-raspberry socks, 4 4 but 
I’m too old a bird—no pun intended this time—to 
be caught. Besides, I played once for a couple of 
weeks, and I know that signals didn’t mean any¬ 
thing to me.” 

44 Funny you didn’t make a success of it!” 
chuckled Clint. 

4 4 The quarter-back just bawls out whatever 
comes into his head and then he tosses the ball 


172 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


to whichever chap looks as if he was wide enough 
awake to catch it and that chap makes a break at 
the line wherever he happens to think he can get 
through,’’ continued Amy convincedly. 4 ‘All this 
stuff about signals is rot. Now we ’ll see. Where’s 
this play going?” 

Clint listened to the signal. ‘ ‘ Full-back straight 
ahead through centre, ’ ’ he said. 

“What did I tell you?” Amy turned in tri¬ 
umph. Clint laughed. 

“Otis got the signal wrong,” he explained, 
“and crossed in front of Martin.” 

“Oh, certainly! Yes, indeed!” agreed Amy 
with deep sarcasm. “Honest, Clint, I think you 
really believe that stuff!” 

“I have to,” grunted Clint. “Here it goes 
right this time.” 

The signal was repeated and Martin dashed 
forward, took the pigskin at a hand-pass and went 
through the centre. Amy grunted. “You just 
happened to guess it,” he said. “Where are they 
going?” 

“Over to scrimmage with the ’varsity. Come 
along. ’ ’ 

‘‘Would you?’’ asked Amy doubtfully. ‘‘Some¬ 
how I hate to see the ’varsity trampled on and 
defeated, Clint. Would you mind asking ‘Boots’ 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


173 


to be merciful today? Tell him you’ve got a 
friend with you who’s soft-hearted and hates the 
sight of blood.” 

Amy made himself particularly objectionable 
during the ensuing half-hour. The ’varsity was in 
fine fettle today and ripped the second team wide 
open for three scores in the two periods played. 
Amy pretended to think that every ’varsity suc¬ 
cess was a second team victory. 

“ There, that ’varsity fellow has taken the ball 
across the line, Clint! Isn’t that great? How 
much does that count for the second? Six, doesn’t 
it? My, but your team is certainly playing won¬ 
derful football, chum. What I don’t understand, 
though, is the—the appearance of satisfaction dis¬ 
played by the ’varsity, Clint. Why is that? Car¬ 
mine is patting Kendall on the back just as if he 
had done something fine! I suppose, though, that 
they’re so used to being defeated that they can 
pretend they’re pleased! Let me see, that makes 
the score 13 to 0 for the second, eh?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, dry up! ” laughed Clint. ‘ ‘ The ’varsity’s 
having one of its good days, that’s all, and we’re 
playing pretty rotten. We have to let them win 
once in a while. If we didn’t they might not play 
with us. There goes St. Clair in for Still.” 

“I hear that Still is fairly punk this Fall,” 


174 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


said Amy. “Too bad, too, for he was a dandy 
man last year. He had some sort of sickness 
in the Summer, Freer tells me. Still never 
said anything about it for fear he’d lose his 
place. ’ ’ 

“That so? I’m sorry for Still, for he’s a nice 
chap, but that St. Clair is surely a wonder, Amy. 
He hasn’t any weight to speak of, but he’s the 
fastest backfield man they’ve got, with the excep¬ 
tion of Marvin, maybe.” 

“Well, I don’t know much about the game,” 
said Amy, “but it seems to me that Carmine is 
a better quarter than Marvin. He seems to have 
more ginger, don’t you think?” 

“Perhaps, but Marvin’s a steadier fellow. 
More dependable. Handles punts a heap better. 
Knows a lot more football than Carmine. I like 
the way Carmine hustles his team, though. I 
reckon Marvin will have to get a hump on him 
or he’ll be losing his job.” 

“Which is the fellow who has your place, 
Clint?” 

“The tall fellow on this end; just pulling his 
head-guard down; see him?” 

“Yes. How is he doing?” 

“Mighty well, I’d say,” responded Clint rue¬ 
fully. “He’s playing better than I’ve ever seen 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 175 

him play all Fall. There he goes now! Let’s see 
if he gets under the ball.” 

Martin had punted, a long, high corkscrew that 
“hung” well and then came down with a rush 
toward the waiting arms of Kendall. Captain 
Turner had got away with Robbins at his heels, 
but Lee, the other end, had been sent sprawling 
by Edwards, of the ’varsity, and Cupples, playing 
right tackle, was far behind the kick. Carmine 
dived at Turner as the ball settled into Kendall’s 
arms, and brought him down, and Robbins threw 
himself at the runner. But Kendall leaped aside, 
spinning on a heel, and Robbins missed him badly. 
It was a second team forward who finally stopped 
Kendall after the latter had raced across four 
white lines. Amy observed Clint severely. 

“Why that unholy smirk on your face?” he 
asked. 

“I wasn’t,” denied Clint. 

“You was! It pleased you to see Robbins miss 
the tackle, and you needn’t deny it. I’m surprised 
at you, Clint! Surprised and pained. You should 
feel sorry for the poor dub, don’t you know 
that?” 

“Yes, I know it,” replied Clint. 

“Well, are you?” 

“I am not!” 


176 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Neither am I,” said Amy, with a chuckle. “I 
hope he misses ’em all and bites his tongue!” 

A few minutes later the second again covered 
itself with glory, according to Amy, when Harris 
of the Varsity skirted its left end and romped 
across the goal line for a third touchdown. Amy 
applauded with glee and thumped Clint on the 
shoulder. ‘ 1 Bully for our side, Clint! ” he gloated. 
“We’ve gone and made the ’varsity score an¬ 
other touchdown for us! Oh, but we ’re the snappy 
little heroes, what? Let’s see if Jack can kick 
a goal and give us another point. Now then! 
There we go! Did he or didn’t he?” 

“He did,” replied Clint gloomily. 

“Fine! That puts the second 20 to 0, eh? Say, 
you’ve got a team there to be proud of, old top! 

Never again will I cast aspersions on it, or- 

What’s up? Why the—the exodus?” 

“They’re through. Come on home.” 

“Couldn’t stand the punishment any longer, 
eh?” asked Amy cheerfully. “Ah, poor, dis¬ 
graced, downtrodden ’varsity! My heart bleeds 
for them, Clint! I could sit me down and 
weep-” 

“You’ll weep all right if you don’t shut up!” 
declared Clint savagely. “And don’t walk so 
fast. I’ve got a bum knee.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


177 


Halfway to Torrence Amy stopped suddenly 
and clasped a hand to his forehead. “Woe is 
me!’ ’ he declaimed. 

“What is it!” asked Clint impatiently. 

“I’ve left my pretty little trophy behind. I’ll 
have to beat it back, Clint, and rescue it. Can’t 
you picture the poor little thing sitting there all 
alone in pathetic solitude, forlorn and deserted!” 

“I’ll bet no one would steal it,” said Clint un¬ 
kindly. 

“Perhaps not, perhaps not, but suppose it 
rained, Clint, and it’s little insides got full of 
water! I mustn’t risk it. Farewell! ’ ’ 

Amy didn’t get back to the room until half an 
hour later, but he had his precious tennis trophy, 
and explained as he placed it on top his chiffonier 
and stood off to view the effect, that he had 
stopped at the courts to learn the results and 
afterwards at Main Hall to get mail. “Brooks 
and Chase won two straight,” he said, “just as I 
expected they would. What did I do with that 
score-sheet, by the way? Oh, here it is.” He 
drew it from an inner pocket of his jacket, and 
with it a blue envelope which fell to the floor. 
He picked it up, with a chuckle. “Look at this, 
Clint. I found it in the mail and nearly had heart 
disease. Too well do I know those blue envelopes 


178 LEFT TACKLE THAYEE 

and Josh’s copper-plate writing! Catch it. I 
tried to think of something I’d done, and couldn’t, 
and then I opened it and found that thing! ’ ’ 

Clint drew a sheet of paper from the blue en¬ 
velope. On it was pasted a short newspaper clip¬ 
ping and above the clipping was written in the 
principal’s minute writing: “Thought you’d like 
to see this. J. L. F.” Clint read the clipping: 

Wharton, Oct. 24—The Stamford police yes¬ 
terday took into custody James Phee and William 
Curtin, charged with numerous burglaries 
throughout the state within the past month, among 
them that of Black and Wiggin’s jewelry store 
in this city a fortnight ago. The suspected men 
were trying to dispose of a small roadster auto¬ 
mobile when arrested and their willingness to 
part with it at a ridiculously low figure placed 
them under suspicion. This car is presumably the 
one with which they operated and successfully es¬ 
caped arrest for so long. The Stamford police are 
trying to find the real owner of the car. It is be¬ 
lieved that the two men got away with at least four 
thousand dollars’ worth of goods of various kinds 
during their recent campaign, of which none has 
been recovered except that stolen from Black and 
Wiggin. In that case almost a thousand dollars’ 
worth of jewelry which the burglars secured by 
blowing the safe was discovered the following day 
buried in the ground on property belonging to 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


179 


Thomas Fairleigh about four miles from town, 
a piece of detective work reflecting great credit 
on Chief Carey.” 

“I notice,” commented Clint with a smile, 
‘ ‘ that no credit is given to Amory Byrd and Clin¬ 
ton Thayer for their share in the discovery.” 

“I should say not! Maybe it’s just as well, 
though. Newspaper notoriety is most unpleas¬ 
ant, Clint. Besides, we didn’t do so badly! ’’ Amy 
pulled out his gold watch and frowned at it in¬ 
tently. “It’s an awful exact sort of a thing, 
though. It hasn’t lost or gained a second in two 
weeks. I’m not sure that I approve of a watch 
with so little—er—sense of humour! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE TEAM TAKES REVENGE 

Clint’s knee remained painful for more than a 
week, during which time he took no part in prac¬ 
tice except, at “Boots’ ” direction, to watch from 
the bench and, later, to follow the squad during 
signal work. Meanwhile the obnoxious Robbins 
who was in reality a very decent fellow and one 
whom Clint could have liked had they not been 
rivals—was performing quite satisfactorily with¬ 
out displaying any remarkable brilliance. Coach 
Robey made two changes in the line-up of the 
’varsity on Thursday of that week in preparation 
for the game with Chambers Tech. St. Clair 
went in at left half-back, vice Still, and Blaisdell 
ousted Churchill at left guard. The Chambers 
contest was one which Brimfield wanted very much 
to win. Last year Chambers had thoroughly hu¬ 
miliated the Maroon-and-Grey, winning 30—9 in 
a contest which reflected little credit on the loser. 
Brimfield had been caught in the middle of a bad 
slump on that occasion. This year, however, no 

slump was apparent as yet and the school thirsted 
180 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 181 

for and expected a victory decisive enough to 
wipe out the stigma of last Fall’s defeat. The 
game was to be played at Brimfield, a fact which 
was counted on to aid the home team. The school 
displayed far more interest in Saturday’s game 
than in any other on the schedule except, of course, 
the final conflict with Claflin, and displayed a con¬ 
fidence rather out of proportion to the probabili¬ 
ties. For Chambers had played six games so far 
this Fall, to Brimfield’s five, and had won five of 
them and tied the other, a record superior to the 
Maroon-and-Grey’s. 

There was no practice that afternoon for the 
second and so Clint witnessed the Chambers game 
from the grand-stand in company with Amy and 
Bob Chase. Chase was a Sixth Form fellow, long, 
loose-jointed and somewhat taciturn. He with 
his partner, Brooks, had won the doubles in the 
tennis tournament a few days previously. Be¬ 
fore the game was more than five minutes old he 
had surprised Clint with the intimate knowledge 
he displayed of football. Possibly Amy discerned 
his chum’s surprise; for he said: “I forgot to 
tell you, Clint, that Bob is the fellow who invented 
the modern game of American football, he and 
Walter Camp together, that is. And I’ve always 


182 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

suspected that Bob gives Camp too much credit, 
at that!” 

"I played four years,” said Chase quietly, 
“and was crazy about it. But I got a broken 
collar-bone one day and my folks were scared 
and asked me to give it up. So I did.” 

Clint pondered that. He wondered if he would 
be so complaisant if his parents made a like re¬ 
quest, and greatly feared he wouldn’t. 

“You must have hated to do it,” he said ad¬ 
miringly. 

Chase nodded. “I did. But I argued it like 
this. Dad was paying a lot of good money for 
my education, and he hasn’t very much of it, 
either, and if he didn’t want to risk the invest¬ 
ment I hadn’t any right to ask him to. Because, 
of course, if I went and busted myself up I’d be 
more or less of a dead loss. Any amount of edu¬ 
cation doesn’t cut much figure if you can’t make 
use of it.” 

“N-no, but—fellows don’t get really hurt very 
often,” replied Clint. 

“Not often, but there was no way of proving to 
dad’s satisfaction that I mightn’t, you see. And 
then, once when we went to a Summer resort down 
in Maine there was a chap there, a great, big six- 
footer of a fellow, who used to be wheeled around 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


183 


on a reclining chair. He’d got his in football. 
And that rather scared me, I guess. Not so much 
on my account as on dad’s. I knew he’d be pretty 
well disappointed if he paid for my school and 
college courses and in return got only an invalid 
in a wheel-chair.” 

“So, very wisely,” said Amy, “you dropped 
football and took up a gentleman’s game?” 

“Well, I’d always liked tennis,” conceded 
Chase. “Funny thing, though, that, after all, 
I got hurt worse in tennis than I did in four years 
of football. ’ ’ Clint looked curious and Chase went 
on. “I was playing in a doubles tournament at 
home Summer before last and my partner and I 
hadn’t worked together before and there was a 
high one to the back of the court and we both 
made for it. I got the ball and he got me; on 
the back of the head with his full force. I dropped 
and they had me in bed three weeks. Concussion, 
they called it. I thought so too. ’ ’ 

Clint glanced reflectively at his knee. “I 
reckon a fellow does take chances in football,” 
he murmured. “I’d hate to give it up, though.” 

“I have an uncle,” said Chase, “who used to 
play football a long time ago, when he was in 
college. In those days about everything went, I 
guess. He told me once that he used to be scared 


184 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

to death every time he started in a hard game for 
fear he’d get badly injured. Said it wasn’t until 
someone had jabbed him in the nose or 'chinned’ 
him that he forgot to be scared.” 

"I know the feeling,” observed Amy. "Once 
when I was playing a chap jumped on me when 
I was down and dug his knee into my chest till 
I thought he’d caved me in. I was so mad I tried 
to bite his ankle! ’ ’ 

"He had a narrow escape from hydrophobia, 
didn’t he?” mused Clint. 

The first two periods of the Chambers game 
aroused little interest. Both teams played list¬ 
lessly, much, as Amy put it, as if they were wait¬ 
ing for the noon whistle. There was a good deal 
of punting and both sides handled the ball cleanly. 
Neither team was able to make consistent gains at 
rushing and the two periods passed without an 
exciting incident. Amy was frankly bored and 
offered to play Chase a couple of sets of 
tennis. Chase, however, chose to see the game 
through. 

"They’ll wake up in the next quarter,” he pre¬ 
dicted. "They’ve both been feeling the other fel¬ 
low out. You’ll see that our fellows will start 
in and try to rush the ends when they come back. 
After they’ve spread Chambers’ line a bit they’ll 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


185 


hammer the guards, I guess. I think Chambers 
will try to punt into scoring distance and then 
let loose.” 

“A score in each period will be the best either 
side will do, I reckon, ” said Clint. 

But Chase shook his head. “I don’t think so,” 
he said. “Maybe there won’t be any scoring in 
the third period, but you’ll find that the fur will 
fly in the last. Only thing is, I don’t know whose 
fur it will be!” 

“Well, I’ll be glad to see some action,” re¬ 
marked Amy, yawning. “Compared to tennis 
this game is a regular ‘cold water sit-around’!” 

“What’s that?” laughed Clint. 

“Oh, that’s a party where you don’t get any¬ 
thing but a glass of water in the way of refresh¬ 
ments, and you sit around in a circle and tell 
stories.” 

“I reckon you’re a big hit at those parties,” 
said Clint. “When it comes to telling sto¬ 
ries-” 

But the rest of Clint’s remark was drowned 
by the cheer that went up as the Maroon-and- 
Grey trotted back around the corner of the grand¬ 
stand. A moment later Chambers returned from 
her seclusion and her warriors dropped their grey- 
blue blankets and began to run up and down to 


186 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

stretch their muscles. Chase watched approv¬ 
ingly. 

“An awfully fit-looking lot,” he said. “I like 
them rangey, don’t you, Thayer?” 

“Yes, I think so. They do look good, don’t 
they? They must average older than our fel¬ 
lows.” 

“At least a year, I’d say. Not much ‘beef’ on 
any of them. Hello, Robey’s sending Tyler in 
at right tackle! Wonder why. Trow wasn’t hurt, 
was he?” 

‘ ‘ Hurt! ’ ’ scoffed Amy. ‘ ‘ How the dickens could 
anyone get hurt? He probably fell asleep in the 
gym and they didn’t like to wake him!” 

“Carmine’s gone in for Marvin,” said Clint. 

“That means that Robey wants things shaken 
up a bit. Marvin’s a good, sure player, but he 
lacks punch, Thayer.” 

“I know. He doesn’t seem to be able to get 
the speed out of the fellows that Carmine does.” 

It was Chambers’ kick-off and the ball trav¬ 
elled to the five-yard line. Carmine let it bound 
out, touched it back and the teams went back to 
the twenty. Carmine showed his ginger at once. 
His shrill voice barked out the signals impatiently 
and Kendall set off around his own left end. The 
two teams raced across the field, Kendall search- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 187 

mg for an opportunity to cut in and finding none 
until lie was almost at the side line. Then he 
twisted ahead for a scant three yards and Brim- 
field cheered. 

Another try at the same end netted two yards 
more, and then Harris faked a punt and shot the 
ball to Edwards, who was downed for no gain 
although he made the catch. Harris punted to 
Chambers’ forty yards and Edwards got the run¬ 
ner neatly. Chambers smashed through Hall for 
two, through Tyler for two more and punted on 
third down. Kendall caught near the edge of the 
field and ran hack twelve yards before he was 
forced out near his twenty-five. A yard gain on 
the short side put the runner over the line and 
the ball was brought in. St. Clair tried right 
tackle for no gain and Kendall made four outside 
the same opponent. Harris punted high and short 
and Chambers made a fair catch on her forty-two 
yards. A fake attack on the left of the line fooled 
the Brimfield backs and Chambers came around 
the right end for seven yards. She made her dis¬ 
tance in two more tries and placed the ball in 
Brimfield territory. But a smash at the centre 
was hurled back and on the next play she was 
caught holding and penalised. A forward pass 
grounded and Chambers punted to Brimfield’s 


188 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


twenty where Carmine caught and dodged back 
for fifteen behind excellent interference. 

“That,” commented Thayer, “was real foot¬ 
ball. Now, then, Brimfield, show ’em what!” 

End attacks, diversified by feints at the line, 
took the pigskin to Chambers’ forty-four yards, 
and the Maroon-and-Grey supports were cheering 
loudly. Then Fate interposed and Carmine 
fumbled, a Chambers forward falling on the 
ball. 

“That’s the trouble with Carmine,” grumbled 
Clint. “He fumbles too plaguey much.” 

Brimfield was over-anxious and Roberts was 
caught off-side. Chambers worked a double-pass 
and made six around Roberts’ end. Two attacks 
on Tyler gave the visitor the other four and made 
it first down on Brimfield’s forty-yard line. Again 
the home team was set back for being off-side. 
Chambers came through right guard for three and 
worked Edwards’ end for four more. With seven 
to go, a forward pass was tried and succeeded 
for enough to make the distance. Things were 
waking up now with a vengeance and Amy was no 
longer demanding action. Instead, he was shuf¬ 
fling around on the edge of his seat, watching 
events breathlessly. Chambers was down to her 
opponents r twenty-four yards now, almost under 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 189 

the shadow of the goal and a place-kick would 
score once out of twice. 

But Chambers didn’t want the mere three 
points to be gained by the overhead route. In¬ 
stead, suddenly displaying a ferocity of attack 
never once hinted at in the first half of the con¬ 
test, she hurled her fast backs at the Brimfield 
wings and bored through twice for two-yard gains. 
Then a fake forward-pass deceived the defenders 
and the Chambers full-back broke through past 
Innes and Blaisdell for a full six yards and an¬ 
other first down. There seemed no stopping her 
then. Carmine was scolding shrilly and Captain 
Innes was hoarsely imploring the line to “get low 
and slam ’em back!” With only fourteen yards 
between her and the last white line, Chambers 
played like wildcats. A half fumbled behind the 
line, but the quarter recovered the ball and actu¬ 
ally squirmed ahead for a yard before he could 
be stopped. Another attack on Tyler netted three 
yards more. 

“Hold ’em, Brimfield! Hold ’em! Hold ’em! 
Hold ’em!” chanted the grand-stand. Clint was 
scowling ferociously and gripping his hands hard 
between his knees. Amy was patting his feet on 
the boards. Chase was studying the situation in¬ 
tently, outwardly quite unaffected by the crisis. 


190 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Someone/’ he observed, “is making a mistake 
there. They’ll never get six yards by plugging 
the line. Why don’t they make Brimfield open 
out?” 

But evidently Chambers thought she could con¬ 
quer by massing her attack, for once more she 
hurled her backs at the centre, and once more the 
Maroon-and-Grey yielded. But the gain was less 
than two yards and only one dov^n remained. 

“Fourth down and about four to go!” cried the 
referee. 

Chambers changed her plans then, strung her 
backs out along her line and shifted to the 
left. 

“Here comes a trick,” muttered Clint. 

“I doubt it,” responded Chase. “It looks like 
it, and it’s meant to, but I guess when it comes 
it’ll be a straight line-buck with that careless- 
looking full-back carrying the ball. I hope Innes 
sizes it up the way I do, for-” 

“Watch this!” Innes shouted. “Watch the 
ball! Look out for a forward! Come in here, 
Kendall! Throw ’em back, fellows!” 

The Chambers quarter shouted his signals, the 
ball went to him, the two half-backs shot away to 
the left, the full-back plunged ahead, took the ball 
and struck hard, head down, at the left of centre. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 191 

But Brimfield had not been fooled. Blaisdell 
wavered, but the secondary defence piled up be¬ 
hind him. The full-back stopped, struggled ahead, 
stopped again and then came staggering back, half 
the Brimfield team about him. The whistle piped, 
and— 

“Brimfield’s ball!” cried the referee. “First 
down right here!” He waved the line-men to¬ 
ward the Chambers goal and the grand-stand burst 
into a peal of triumph. Amy clapped Clint on 
the knee—fortunately it was not the injured one! 
—and cried: “Some team, Clint! Say, they play 
almost as well as the second, eh?” 

And Clint, laughing delightedly, acknowledged 
that they did—almost! 

Harris, well behind his own goal line, punted 
to safety, a long and high corkscrew that brought 
another roar of delight from the home team sup¬ 
porters and settled into the arms of a Chambers 
back near the forty-yard line. Two tries at the 
left wing and the whistle shrilled the end of the 
third period and the teams changed goals. 

“Bet you it’ll be a stand-off,” said Amy. 

“Don’t want to take your money,” replied 
Chase, with a smile. 

“Who will score, then?” 

“Brimfield for certain, Chambers perhaps. If 


192 LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 

Chambers scores it’ll be from the field. She’s 
killed herself.” 

And Chase’s prophecy proved fairly correct. 
Chambers had shot her bolt. Brimfield secured 
the ball by inches on a fourth down near the mid¬ 
dle of the field and her first desperate attack, 
a skin-tackle play with St. Clair carrying the pig¬ 
skin, piled through for nearly ten yards, proving 
that Chambers was no longer invulnerable. Car¬ 
mine, still in control, called for more speed and 
still more. The Maroon-and-Grey warriors fairly 
dashed to their positions after a play. Chambers 
called time for an injured guard and substituted 
two new linesmen. Kendall and Harris were 
poked through left tackle for good gains and St. 
Clair got away around left end and was not 
stopped until he had placed the ball on the twenty- 
three. A fake kick worked for a short gain 
through centre, Carmine carried the pigskin 
around left tackle for three, Harris hurled himself 
through the rapidly weakening centre for four 
more and on the next play netted the distance 
and a yard to spare. 

The grand-stand had well-nigh emptied itself, 
the spectators hurrying along the side line toward 
the Chambers goal. Amy and Clint and Chase 
squirmed to the front of the crowd where Tracey 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


193 


Black was wildly imploring the fellows to 4 ‘Keep 
back of the line, please! Don’t get on the field, 
fellows! ’ ’ 

Chambers put in a new left half and Coach 
Robey sent Gafferty in for Hall. The latter had 
been pretty badly treated in the third quarter. 
The pigskin was on the Chambers twelve yards 
now and Carmine and Captain Innes went back 
and put their heads together. Then Harris 
joined them and the crowd along the edge of the 
field set up a demand for a touchdown. “We 
don’t want a field-goal, Innes! We want a touch¬ 
down ! Give us a touchdown! Touchdown! 
Touchdown! ’ ’ 

But Jack Innes apparently thought a field-goal 
with its accompanying three points was sufficient 
to try for, for Harris walked slowly back to kick¬ 
ing position and spread his long arms out. But 
no one expected a try-at-goal on first down and 
there was none. Harris got the ball, made believe 
hurl it to the left, turned and raced to the right. 
Kendall and Carmine bowled over an opponent 
apiece and Harris ducked through and was pulled 
down on the six yards, while some seven score 
excited youths danced along the side line and 
howled gleefully. 

Again Harris went back, but this time it was 


194 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Carmine himself who sought a breach in the op¬ 
ponent’s defence and was finally upset without 
gain. It was third down now, with four to go. 
The ball was well to the right of the goal, but 
Harris had done harder angles than that in his 
time, and hardly anyone there doubted that he 
would manage to land the ball across the bar. For 
there was hardly a question but that Brimfield 
was to try a field-goal this time. She weakened 
her end defence to provide protection to the kicker, 
both Kendall and Roberts playing well in and 
leaving the opposing ends unchallenged. But if 
Harris was capable of dropping the ball over from 
that angle he failed to do it on this occasion. 

Back near the eighteen yards he waited, while 
Carmine piped the signal, arms outstretched. 
Chambers feinted and danced in her eagerness to 
pile through. Then back went the ball, waist-high, 
and Harris caught it and turned it carefully. The 
enemy thrust and struggled. An eager left end 
came around and went to earth before Roberts. 
Confusion reigned supreme for a long moment. 
Then the unexpected happened. Harris swung 
his leg, but he didn’t drop the ball to it. Instead 
he turned quickly, tossed it a running figure 
which had suddenly detached itself from the of¬ 
fence and threw himself in the path of a reach- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


195 


ing Chambers forward. Off to right shot the 
runner with the ball. Cries, frantic gasps from 
Chambers! A sudden scuttling to the left to head 
off the attack! But the Chambers left wing had 
been neatly drawn in and Steve Edwards had 
nearly a clear field in front of him when, ten 
yards from the side line, he saw his chance and 
dodging behind St. Clair and eluding the Cham¬ 
bers right half-back, he fairly romped across the 
line! 

“That,” shouted Amy, whacking Chase on the 
back, “is what is called strategy! Get me? 
Strategy!” 

Three minutes later Jack Innes had kicked goal 
and turned the six to a seven. And five minutes 
later still the game came to an end with Brim- 
field once more pounding at Chambers ’ door. It 
was generally conceded that if the contest had 
lasted another minute Brimfield would have added 
another score. 


CHAPTER XV 


A BROKEN FIDDLE 

Brimfield trooped back across the field to the 
Row noisily triumphant. Two hours before had 
anyone suggested that it would be satisfied with 
anything less than three scores it would have 
derided the notion. Now however it was not only 
satisfied but elated. Those seven points looked 
large and noble, and the home team’s victory was 
viewed as a masterful triumph. Chambers was 
credited with having put up a fine fight, with 
having a more than ordinarily powerful team, 
and there were some who even went so far as to 
declare that Claflin would show no better football 
than today’s visitors had shown. But that was 
doubtless an exaggeration, and those who made 
it had probably forgotten those first two periods 
in which both teams played very ordinary football 
indeed. A fair analysis of the game would have 
shown that the two elevens, while playing some¬ 
what different styles of football, had been very 
evenly matched in ability and condition, that both 
had been weak on defence and that neither had 
196 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


197 


proved itself the possessor of an attack which 
could be depended on to gain consistently. What 
both teams had shown was a do-or-die spirit 
which, while extremely commendable, would not 
have availed against a well-rounded eleven evenly 
developed as to attack and defence. In other 
words, both Brimfield and Chambers had shown 
fine possibilities, but neither was yet by any means 
a remarkable team. 

In some ways the visitors had outplayed Brim- 
field. Chambers ’ attack, especially between the 
twenty-five-yard lines, had been far more varied 
and effective. Her line, from tackle to tackle, had 
been stronger than her opponent’s. Brimfield 
had been especially weak at the left of centre, and 
a resume of the game showed that Chambers had 
made two-thirds of her line gains through Blais- 
dell and Saunders. Churchill, who had replaced 
Blaisdell in the second half, had shown up no 
better on defence. At the ends Brimfield had held 
her own, while her backs had shown up superior 
to Chambers \ Chambers had outpunted Brimfield 
an average of five yards at a kick and had placed 
her punts to better advantage. In generalship 
both teams had erred frequently and there was 
little to choose between them. 

But all this had no present effect on Brim- 


198 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


field’s jubilation, and the school acted as if a most 
notable victory had been won. When the ’varsity 
team came in to supper that night it received an 
ovation hardly second in enthusiasm to that usu¬ 
ally accorded it after a victory over Claflin. And 
perhaps, after all, the team deserved it, for when 
all was said and done the spirit which had been 
shown when they had held Chambers scoreless on 
the four yards and again later when they had 
themselves worn down the defence and gained 
their touchdown had been of the right sort. 

Clint filled four pages of his Sunday’s letter 
the next afternoon with a glowing and detailed 
account of that game, and it is to be hoped that 
the folks at Cedar Run enjoyed the perusal of 
it half as much as he enjoyed writing it. That 
evening he and Amy dropped in at Number 14 
Hensey and found a roomful of fellows in excited 
discussion of the game. There was a disposition 
on the part of some of the fellows to consider the 
Claflin contest as good as won, but Jack Innes was 
more pessimistic. 

“Look here,” he interrupted finally, “you fel¬ 
lows talk like a lot of sick ducks. I’m blessed if 
I see what you’re so cocky about. We beat Cham¬ 
bers, all right, but we didn’t any more than beat 
them, and we had to work like the very dickens 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 199 

to do it. And, what’s more, we only kept Cham¬ 
bers from scoring by the biggest piece of good 
luck.” 

“Oh, piffle, Jack!” exclaimed Still. “We had 
them fourth down and five to go. They couldn’t 
have made it to save their lives! ’ ’ 

“They only had four to go,” replied Jack, “and 
if they’d tried anything but a child’s trick they’d 
likely have made it. The only way we got across 
was by springing a delayed pass on them when 
they were looking for a line-plunge.” 

“Bet you anything you like we could have gone 
straight through for that touchdown,” said Still. 
“We had the ball on their four yards and it was 
only third down. Harris or Kendall could have 
torn that four yards off easily.” 

“That’s your opinion,” replied Jack drily. 
“As I remember it, though, you were not on at 
the time. We knew mighty well we couldn’t get 
that four yards by playing the line. If you don’t 
believe me, ask Robey. The first thing he said 
afterwards was that he was afraid we were 
going to send Harris at centre on that last 
play and that if we had we’d never have got 
over.” 

“Oh, well, we got it, anyway,” observed Tom 
Hall cheerfully. 


200 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“Yes, we got it,” agreed Jack Innes, “but Pm 
telling you fellows that we only just did get it, 
and that we’ve got mighty little to crow about. 
Our forward line wasn’t nearly as good as Cham¬ 
bers You all know that. And you ought to know 
that if we went in against Claflin and played the 
sort of football we played yesterday we’d be lit¬ 
erally swamped!” 

“But, look here, Jack,” protested Tracey Black 
warmly, “it’s only mid-season, old man. You’ve 
got to acknowledge that we’re in mighty good 
shape for the time of year.” 

“I’m not knocking, Tracey. I’m giving all the 
fellows credit for what they did yesterday, but 
I don’t want them to get the idea in their heads 
that all we’ve got to do is mark time from now 
until the big game. We’ve got to, be at least twice 
as good then as we were yesterday. Besides, I 
don’t call it the middle of the season when we’ve 
got only three games to play before Claflin. The 
Benton game was the mid-season game. We’re on 
the last lap now. And,” he added grimly, “we’ve 
got some work ahead of us!” 

“For my part,” observed Amy, who had been 
rather bored by the discussion, “I think the whole 
bunch of you played pretty rottenly. ’ ’ 

“You do, eh!” demanded Edwards. “Suppose 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 201 

yon tell ns all about it, Amy. Give us of your 
wisdom, 0 enlightened one. ,, 

“There yon go,” groaned Tom Hall, 4 ‘talking 
the way he does! ’ ’ 

“Oh, I don’t know that I care to specify which 
of you was the worst,” replied Amy carelessly. 
“Possibly it was you, Steve. You had a dandy 
chance once to upset the referee and you delib¬ 
erately side-stepped him. If you’re going to play 
the game, boy, play it! Don’t dodge any of your 
duties or responsibilities.” 

“Oh, you be blowed,” laughed Edwards. “It’s 
the sorrow of my life, Amy, that you didn’t keep 
on with football.” 

“I dare say if I had I’d have shown you fellows 
a few things about it,” replied Amy modestly. 
“Theoretically, I’m something of an authority on 
football. When you come right down to brass 
tacks, it’s the fellow on the side line who sees 
most of the game. I’m considering coaching when 
I leave school. Take my young friend Clint here. 
Clint owes a whole lot to my advice and guidance. 
He wouldn’t be where he is today if it hadn’t been 
for me, would you, Clint?” 

“I’m on the bench just now,” retorted Clint 
drily. 

“That’s where you’ll stay if you listen to his 


202 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

ravings/ ’ said Steve Edwards, amidst general 
laughter. 

“By the way, how is that ankle of yours, 
Thayer ?” inquired Innes. 

“Pretty nearly all right, thanks. It’s my knee, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Oh, is it? Say, Churchill got a peach of a 
black eye yesterday. Seen it ? ” 

“Rather!” replied Freer. “He looked posi¬ 
tively disreputable, poor chap.” 

4 ‘ The fun of it is, ’ ’ chuckled Hall, ‘ 4 that he had 
to address the Christian Association this after¬ 
noon. iWere you there, Jack?” 

“Yes. It wasn’t so bad. He had a patch over 
it. Still, it was sort of funny to hear him talking 
about clean playing!” 

Clint was given a clear bill of health the next 
day and went back to practice with a silk bandage 
around his knee. He was given light work and 
sat on the bench again while the second played 
two twelve-minute periods against the ’varsity 
substitutes. It seemed to him that Robbins fairly 
outplayed himself that afternoon, but he failed to 
take into consideration that his rival was pitted 
against substitutes or that his own state of mind 
was rather pessimistic. Practice ended early and 
after a shower and a rub Clint ambled across to 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


203 


Torrence feeling rather dispirited. The dormi¬ 
tory seemed pretty empty and lonesome as he en¬ 
tered the corridor. Even Penny Durkin’s violin 
was silent, which was a most unusual condition 
of affairs for that hour of the afternoon. Clint 
slammed his door behind him, tossed his cap in 
the general direction of the window-seat and 
flopped morosely into a chair at the table. He had 
plenty of work to do, but after pulling a book 
toward him and finding his place he slammed it 
shut again and pushed it distastefully away. He 
wished Amy would come back, and looked at his 
watch. It was only a little after half-past four, 
though, and Amy, who was probably playing 
tennis, would scarcely stop as long as he was able 
to distinguish the balls. Perhaps it was the ab¬ 
sence of the customary wailing of the next door 
violin that put Penny Durkin in mind. Clint had 
never been in Penny’s room, nor ever said more 
than two dozen words to him except on the occa¬ 
sion of Penny’s encounter with Harmon Dreer, 
but just now Clint wanted mightily to talk to 
someone and so he decided to see if Penny was 
in. At first his knock on the door of Number 13 
elicited no answer, and he was turning away when 
a doubtful “Come in” reached him from beyond 
the closed portal. When he entered Penny was 


204 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

seated on the window-seat at the far end of the 
room doing something to his violin. 

“Hello,” he said not very graciously. Then, 
giving the newcomer a second glance, he added: 
“Oh, that you, Thayer! I thought it was Mullins. 
Come on in.” 

“Thought maybe you were dead,” said Clint 
flippantly, “and dropped in to see.” 

“Dead!” questioned Penny vaguely. 

“Yes, I didn’t hear the violin, you know.” 

“Oh, I see.” There was a moment’s silence. 
Then Penny said very soberly: “It isn’t me that’s 
dead; it’s the violin.” 

“Something gone wrong!” asked Clint, joining 
the other at the window and viewing the instru¬ 
ment solicitously. Penny nodded. 

“I guess it’s a goner,” he muttered. “Look 
here.” He held the violin out for Clint’s inspec¬ 
tion and the latter stared at it without seeing any¬ 
thing wrong until Penny sadly indicated a 
crack which ran the full length of the brown 
surface. 

“Oh, I see,” said Clint. “Too bad. Will it 
hurt it much!” 

Penny viewed him in surprise. “Hurt it! 
Why, it spoils it! It’ll never have the same tone, 
Thayer. It—it’s just worthless now! I was 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


205 


pretty’’—there was a catch in Penny’s voice—> 
“pretty fond of this old feller.” 

“That is a shame,” said Clint sympathetically. 
“How’d you do it?” 

Penny laid the violin down beside him on the 
window-seat and gazed at it sorrowfully a mo¬ 
ment. Finally, “I didn’t do it,” he answered. 
‘ ‘ I found it like that an hour ago. ’ ’ 

“Then—how did it happen? I suppose they’re 
fairly easy to bust, aren’t they?” 

“No, they’re not. Whoever cracked that had 
to give it a pretty good blow. You can see where 
it was hit.” 

“But who- Was it Emery, do you think?” 

Emery was Penny’s room-mate, a quiet fifth form 
fellow who lived to stuff and who spent most of 
his waking hours in recitation room or school 
library. “He might have knocked it off, I dare 
say.” 

Penny shook his head. “It wasn’t Gus and it 
wasn’t the chambermaid. I asked them both. Be¬ 
sides, the violin was in its case leaning in the 
corner. No, somebody took it out and either 
struck it with something or hit it over the corner 
of the table. I think probably they hit it on the 
table.” 

Clint stared. “You mean that—that someone 



206 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


did it deliberately ?” he gasped incredulously. 
“But, Durkin, no one would do a thing like 
that!’ ’ 

“Of course, I’ve got another one,” said Penny, 
“but it isn’t like this. This is a Moretti and cost 
sixty dollars twelve years ago. You can’t buy 
them any more. Moretti’s dead, and he only made 
about three a year, and there aren’t many any¬ 
how. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But, Durkin, who could have done it ? ’ ’ 

Penny didn’t answer; only picked up the violin 
tenderly and once more traced the almost imper¬ 
ceptible crack along the face of the mellowed 
wood. 

“You don’t mean”—Clint’s voice dropped— 
“you don’t mean DreerF’ 

“I can’t prove it on him,” answered Penny 
quietly. 

“But—but, oh, hang it, Durkin, even Dreer 
wouldn’t do as mean a thing as that!” But even 
as he said it Clint somehow knew that Penny’s 
suspicions were correct, and, at variance with his 
assertion, added wrathfully: “By Jove, he ought 
to be thrashed! ’ ’ 

y “He said he’d get even,” observed Penny 
thoughtfully. 

Clint sat down on the end of the window-seat 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


207 


and looked frowningly at Penny. “What are you 
going to do?” he asked finally. 

‘ ‘ Hon’t see that I can do anything except grin, ’ ’ 
was the reply. “ If I charge him with it he ’ll deny 
it. No one saw him do it, I guess. He probably 
came in here early this afternoon. I have French 
at two, you know, and he probably counted on that. 
Gus never is in, anyhow. After he did it he put 
it back in the case, but I knew as soon as I’d 
opened it that somebody had been at it because 
my handkerchief was underneath, and I always 
spread it on top. If I beat him up he’ll go to 
Josh and Josh will say it w T as an unwarrantable 
attack, or something, and I’ll get the dickens. I 
can’t afford that, because I’m trying hard for 
a Draper Scholarship and can’t take chances. 
I guess he’s evened things up all right, 
Thayer. ’ ’ 

“It’s perfectly rotten!” said Clint explosively. 
“If it was me I’d thrash him, scholarship or no 
scholarship! The mean pup! ’ ’ 

“You wouldn’t if it might mean losing your 
chance of coming back after Christmas. I need 
that scholarship the worst way and I have a hunch 
that I’ll get it if I don’t get into trouble. I had 
it last year, you know. I haven’t done very well 
with business this Fall; fellows haven’t seemed 


208 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


to want things much. No, if Dreer figured out 
that I wouldn’t go after him on account of the 
scholarship, he guessed about right. I’d like 
to”—Penny’s voice trembled—“to half kill him, 
but—I won’t!” 

“Then tell faculty, Durkin. Have him fired out 
of school. Do—do something!” 

“No use telling faculty; I can’t prove it on him. 
Besides, I don’t like the idea of playing baby. 
And, anyway, nothing I could do to Dreer would 
give me my violin back the way it was. It—it 
had a grand tone, Thayer! You’ve heard 
it!” 

“Yes.” Clint had to suppress a smile. “Yes, 
I’ve heard it often, Durkin. It did have a good 
tone; nice and—and clear. ’ ’ 

“There isn’t a better instrument made than a 
Moretti,” said Penny sadly. “I can have it fixed 
so it won’t show, but it won’t ever be the same.” 
He laid the violin back in the case very tenderly 
and spread the white silk handkerchief across the 
strings. “If you don’t mind, Thayer, I’d just as 
leave you didn’t say much about this.” 

“All right,” agreed Clint gruffly. “Mind if I 
tell Amy, though?” 

“Oh, no, only I—I’d rather it didn’t get 
around. Some of the fellows don’t like my play- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 209 

ing, anyhow, yon see, and they’d do a lot of 
talking. ’ ’ 

Clint took his departure a minute later, after 
renewed regrets, and went back to his room. Amy 
was still absent and it was not until after supper 
that they met. 


CHAPTER XVI 


AMY TAKES A HAND 

Clift told Amy about Penny’s violin without 
mentioning the latter’s suspicion. Amy listened 
with darkening face and when Clint had ended 
said: “Dreer, eh? It’s the sort of thing you’d 
expect from him. What’s Penny going to do?” 

Clint explained about the scholarship and Amy 
nodded. “I see. I guess he’s right. Dreer would 
be sure to go to Josh and Penny]d get what-for; 
and then it would be good-bye, scholarship! Un¬ 
less-” Amy paused thoughtfully. 

‘ 4 Unless what?” 

“Unless he could induce our friend Dreer to 
’fess up.” 

“Not likely!” 

“N-'no, not very. Still- Well, I’m sorry 

for old Penny.” 

“Durkin asked me not to say anything about 
it, Amy.” 

“So you told me?” laughed the other. 

“He said I might tell you. I guess he was 
afraid if the fellows learned of it they’d cheer!” 

210 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


211 


Amy chuckled. ‘ 1 Bet they would, too! Where’s 
my dear old German dictionary ?” 

The two boys settled down at opposite sides of 
the table to study. After a few minutes, Clint, 
whose thoughts still dwelt on Penny’s tragedy, 
asked: “What made you think it was Dreer, 
Amy?” 

“Eh? Oh, why, who else would it be? Shut 
up and let me get this piffle.” 

But a half-hour later, when Clint closed his 
Latin book and glanced across, Amy was leaning 
back in his chair, his hands behind his head and 
a deep frown on his forehead. “All through?” 
asked Clint enviously. 

< i Through ?’ 9 Amy evidently came back with an 
effort. “ No, I wish I were. I was—thinking . 9 9 

When nine o’clock sounded Clint sighed with 
relief and closed his book. Amy got up and 
walked to the window and threw himself on the 
seat. “Look here,” he said finally, “Dreer 
oughtn’t to be allowed to get away with that cute 
little stunt of his.” 

“No, but how-” 

“I’ve been thinking.” Amy thrust his hands 
into his pockets and a slow smile spread over his 
face. “Penny can’t touch him, but that doesn’t 
say I can’t. I haven’t any scholarship to lose. ’ ’ 


212 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“But you can’t go and knock Dreer down for 
what he did to someone else,” objected Clint. 

“Why can’t I, if I want to?” 

“But—but they’d expel you or—or some¬ 
thing.” 

“I wonder! Well, maybe they would. Yes, I 
guess so. Consequently, I’ll knock him down on 
my own account—ostensibly, Clint, ostensibly. ’ ’ 

“Don’t be an ass,” begged the other. “You 
can’t do that.” 

Amy doubled a capable-looking fist and viewed 
it thoughtfully. “I think I can,” he responded 
grimly. 

“Oh, you know what I mean, Clint. You 
haven’t any quarrel with Dreer.” 

“I told him that the next time he talked rot 
about how much better Claflin is than Brimfield 
I’d lick him. I gave him fair warning, and he 
knows I’ll do it, too.” 

“All right, but he hasn’t said anything like that, 
has he?” 

“Not that I know of, but”—Amy’s smile deep¬ 
ened—“something tells me he’s going to! Come 
on over here where I won’t have to shout at you.” 
Amy patted the window-seat. “That door isn’t 
so awfully thick, I’m thinking.” 

Clint obeyed, and for the next ten minutes Amy 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


213 


explained and Clint demurred, objected and, 
finally, yielded. In such manner was the plot to 
avenge Penny Durkin’s wrongs hatched. 

Two days later Harmon Dreer, looking for mail 
in Main Hall, came across a notice from the post 
office apprising him that there was a registered 
parcel there which would be delivered to him on 
presentation of this notice and satisfactory iden¬ 
tification. Harmon frowned at the slip of paper 
a moment, stuffed it into his pocket and sought 
his nine-o’clock recitation. A half-hour later, 
however, having nothing to do until ten, he started 
off toward the village. He was half-way down 
the drive toward the east gate before he became 
visible from the window of Thursby’s room on the 
front of Torrence. Amy, who had been seated 
at the window for half an hour, at once arose, 
crossed the hall and put his head in at the door 
of Number 14. 

“Got him,” he announced placidly. 

Clint, who had cut a recitation to remain within 
call, and had been salving his conscience by study¬ 
ing his French, jumped up and seized his cap. 

“He’s about at the gate now,” added Clint as 
they hurried down the stairs. “We’ll give him 
plenty of time, because we don’t want to meet him 
until he’s half-way back. I knew he’d bite at that 


214 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 
registered parcel. ’ ’ Amy chuckled. ‘ ‘ He couldn t 
even wait until noon!’ 9 

Fifteen minutes later Harmon Dreer, returning 
from the post office, spied ahead of him, loitering 
in the direction of the Academy, two boys of 
whom one looked at the distance of a block away 
very much like the obnoxious Byrd. For choice, 
Dreer would have avoided Amy on general prin¬ 
ciples, but in this case he had no chance, for, unless 
he climbed a fence and took to the fields, there 
was no way for him to reach school without pro¬ 
ceeding along the present road. Neither was it 
advisable to dawdle, for he had Greek at ten 
o’clock, it was now twelve minutes of and “Uncle 
Sim” had scant patience with tardy students. 
There was nothing for it but to hurry along, but 
the fact didn’t improve his temper, which was 
already bad. To walk three-quarters of a mile in 
the expectation of getting a valuable registered 
parcel and then discover on opening it that it con¬ 
tained only two folded copies of a daily news¬ 
paper was enough to sour anyone’s disposition! 
And that is what had happened to Dreer. Some¬ 
one, of course, had played a silly joke on him, but 
he couldn’t imagine who, nor did he for a moment 
connect Byrd’s appearance on the scene with the 
registered parcel. When he reached the two 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 215 

ahead he saw that one was Byrd, as he had 
thought, and the other Thayer. They were so 
deeply in conversation that he was almost past 
before they looked up. When they did Dreer 
nodded. 

“Hi, fellows,’’ he murmured, without, however, 
decreasing his pace. 

“Hi, Dreer!” responded Amy, and Thayer 
echoed him. “Say, you’re just the fellow to settle 
this,” Amy continued. 

“Settle what?” asked Dreer, pausing unwill¬ 
ingly. 

“Why, Clint says- By the way, you know 

Thayer, don’t you!” 

Dreer nodded and Amy went on. 

“Well, Clint says that Claflin played two fel¬ 
lows on her team last year who weren’t eligible. 
What were their names, Clint?” 

“Ainsmith and Kenney,” replied Clint unhesi¬ 
tatingly. 

“Ainsmith!” exclaimed Dreer. “Kenney? 
Say, you don’t know what you’re talking about, 
Thayer! ’ ’ 

“That’s what I told him,” said Amy eagerly. 
“They were all right, weren’t they? Clint says 
that last year was their first at Claflin and that 
they didn’t have any right to play on the team.” 


216 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“Rot! Ainsmith’s been at Claflin two years 
and Kenney three. Where’d you get that dope, 
Thayer ? ’ ’ 

“I heard it and I think I’m right,” said Clint 
stubbornly. 

“You can’t be,” persisted Amy. “Dreer went 
to Claflin last year, and he knows, don’t you, 
Dreer ?” 

“Of course I know! Besides, Claflin doesn’t 
do that sort of thing, Thayer. It doesn’t have to! 
You’d better turn over; you’re on your back!” 

“That’s what I heard,” persisted Clint. 

4 ‘You’re wrong!” Dreer laughed contemptu¬ 
ously. “Whoever told you that stuff was string¬ 
ing you. Well, I must get a move on. I’ve got a 
ten o ’clock. ’ ’ 

“But wait a minute,” begged Amy. “You’ve 
got time enough. Let’s get this settled.” Dreer 
suddenly discovered that Amy was between him 
and the Academy and that he had a detaining 
hand on his arm. 

‘ ‘ Can’t, I tell you! I ’ll be late! Besides, there’s 
nothing to settle. I know what I’m talking about. 
And if Thayer doesn’t believe it all he’s got to 
do is to look in the Claflin catalogue. I’ve got 
one in my room he can see any time he wants 
to.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 217 

“Sure, I know,” said Amy soothingly. “I’ve 
told him you’d know all about it.” Amy turned 
to Clint impatiently. “Dreer went to Claflin— 
how many years was it? Two, Dreer?” 

“Yes; that is, one and a half. I left in the 
Winter.” 

“Of course. Well, don’t you see, Clint, he’d 
ought to know what he’s talking about?” 

“Maybe he ought,” replied Clint rudely, “but 
I don’t believe he does. He says Claflin doesn’t 
do that kind of thing. If it’s such a fine school 
why didn’t he stay there?” 

“You bet it’s a fine school!” returned Dreer 
heatedly. “ It’s the best there is! ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, piffle, ’ ’ sneered Clint. 6 ‘ Better than Brim- 
field, I suppose?” 

“Better than- Say, you make me laugh! 

There isn’t any comparison. Claflin’s got it all 
over this hole every way you look!” Dreer 
paused suddenly and cast a doubtful look at Amy. 
But for once Amy seemed unconcerned by such 
sentiment. His smile even seemed approving! 
Dreer warmed to his subject. “Of course, you 
fellows haven’t been anywhere else and think 
Brimfield’s quite a school. That’s all right. But 
I happen to have gone to Claflin and I know the 
difference between a real school and a second-rate 


218 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

imitation like this! Brimfield’s a regular hole, 
fellows, believe me! Gee, I must get on! ’ ’ 

“I wouldn’t hurry,” said Amy. Something in 
his tone caught Dreer’s attention and he glanced 
around apprehensively to find Amy removing his 
coat. 

“Wha—what do you mean, you wouldn’t 
hurry? ” he asked uneasily. 

Amy hung his coat on a paling and placed his 
cap on top. Then he tugged his belt in another 
hole. And all the time he smiled quite pleasantly. 
Dreer moved backward toward the curb, but found 
Clint barring his way. His anxious gaze searched 
the road for help, but in each direction it was 
empty. He laughed nervously. 

“What’s the joke?” he asked. 

“No joke at all, Dreer,” replied Amy. “I gave 
you fair warning that the next time you ran down 
the school I’d beat you. If I were you, Dreer, 
I’d take off my coat.” 

“You dare touch me and it’ll be mighty bad for 
you, Byrd! I’m not going to fight you, and you 
can’t make me.” 

‘ 4 Suit yourself about that, ’ ’ replied Amy, step¬ 
ping toward him. 

Dreer thought of flight, but it looked hopeless. 
Besides, a remnant of pride counselled him to 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


219 


bluster it out rather than run away. He laughed, 
not very successfully. “Two against one, eh? 
Wait till fellows hear about it! You won’t dare 
show your faces, you two thugs!” Again his 
gaze travelled along the empty, sunlit road. 
“Anyway, I didn’t say anything 1 didn’t have a 
right to say. You asked me what I thought and 
I told you. You—you made me say it!” 

“I did, Dreer?” Amy shook his head gently. 
“Think again. Surely, I didn’t do that?” 

“Well, he did,” faltered Dreer. “And you put 
him up to it, I ’ll bet! Don’t you touch me, Byrd! ’ ’ 

“Put your hands up!” 

“I won’t! You’re bullies! Two against one 
isn’t fair!” 

“Thayer won’t touch you. I’ll attend to you 
alone and unaided, Dreer. Fair warning! ’ ’ 

“Keep away from me! You’d better! Don’t 
you-” 

Dreer picked himself up slowly from the side¬ 
walk. There was a frightened look in his eyes. 

“I don’t see what you’re doing this for,” he 
half whimpered. “I haven’t done anything to 
you. ’ ’ 

“You spoke disrespectfully of the school, Dreer. 
I told you you mustn’t. I’m terribly fond of the 
dear old school and it hurts me to hear it ma- 


220 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 
ligned. And then there’s Durkin’s violin, Dreer. 
Perhaps you haven’t heard about that. 

A gleam of comprehension flashed in the boy’s 
face and he backed up against the fence. “ I don’t 
know anything about any violin,” he muttered. 

‘‘Of course you don’t, Dreer,” replied Amy 
cheerfully. “I’m just telling you about it. Some¬ 
one went into his room day before yesterday and 
smashed it. Isn’t that a shame? You wouldn’t 
do a thing like that, would you?” 

“I didn’t!” whined Dreer. “You haven’t any 
right to blame me for it!” 

“Who’s blaming you for it? Perish the 
thought, Dreer! I’m just telling you about it.” 

“Then you let me go, Byrd! I didn’t hurt his 
old fiddle!” 

‘ ‘ Tut, tut! You mustn’t think I’m knocking you 
around on account of that. Oh dear, no! X 
wouldn’t have any right to do that, Dreer. What 
I’m doing is punishing you for speaking disre¬ 
spectfully of our dear old Alma Mater. Look 
out for your face, Dreer!” 

Dreer put up a half-hearted defence then, and 
for a moment the two boys circled about on the 
dusty sidewalk, Dreer pale and plainly scared, 
Amy smiling and deliberate. Then came a feint 
at Dreer’s body, a lowering of his guard and a 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


221 


quick out-thrust of Amy’s left fist. The blow 
landed on Dreer’s cheek and he went staggering 
backward against the palings. He was too fright¬ 
ened to cry out. With a hand pressed to his 
bleeding cheek, he stared dumbly at Amy, trem¬ 
bling and panting. Clint, who had watched pro¬ 
ceedings from a few yards away, felt sorry for 
the boy. 

"That’s enough, Amy,” he said. "He can’t 
fight. ’ ’ 

4 ‘ Oh, yes, he can, ’ ’ returned Amy sternly. ‘ 1 He 
can fight when the other fellow’s smaller than he 
is, can’t you, Dreer? And he’s a very skilful 
arm-twister, too. I haven’t got him warmed up 
yet, that’s all. We’ve only started, haven’t we, 
Dreer?” 

"You—you brute!” muttered Dreer. "What 
do you want me to do? I—I’ll do anything you 
say, Byrd.” 

"Will you? Then come away from that fence 
so I can knock you over again, you sneak! ’ ’ 

"He’s had enough, Amy,” pleaded Clint. 

"Enough? Oh, no, he hasn’t! When he’s had 
enough he’s going to tell us who smashed Dur¬ 
kin’s violin, aren’t you, Dreer? And he’s going 
to tell us that he’s been awfully mistaken in his 
estimate of Brimfield Academy, too. Why, he’s 


222 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

going to just love the dear old school before I get 

through with him, Clint! ’ ’ 

“I—I tell you I didn’t touch his violin,” cried 
Dreer with a brief flash of defiance. 

‘ ‘ There! You see ?” said Amy. ‘ ‘ His memory 
is still weak, Clint. Come away from the fence, 
Dreer.” 

“I won’t! Let me alone! You’ve struck me 
twice, Byrd. That—that ought to be enough.” 
He ended with a sniffle. 

“Sorry,” said Amy, “hut I’ve got to arouse 
that memory of yours. If you won’t come away 
from there, why-” 

“Hello, hello!” said a voice. “What’s the 
trouble, fellows?” 

The three boys started. A few yards away, 
leaning on his cane, stood a tall man of twenty- 
three or four years, a mildly surprised expression 
on his good-looking face. 


CHAPTER XVn 


A STRANGER INTERRUPTS 

He wore a grey flannel suit, a cap to match, and 
Tubber-soled tan shoes. It was doubtless the latter 
which accounted for his unsuspected appearance 
on the scene. His brown eyes travelled from one 
to another of the little group inquiringly. 

“I hope I don’t intrude,” he observed politely. 
“I’m afraid you do, a bit,” responded Amy 
calmly. 

4 ‘ They ’re two against one! ’ ’ cried Dreer shrilly. 
“I didn’t do a thing to them! He—he knocked 

me down, and cut my face, and-” 

“Easy, easy!” The stranger held up a hand. 
“I thought from what I saw that this gentleman 
was quite neutral. How about it?” He turned 
to Clint. 

“Yes, sir,” answered the latter. 

“I thought so. Then it’s you two who are en¬ 
gaged in this encounter, eh ? I presume it’s a gen¬ 
tleman’s affair? All fair and ship-shape?” 
“Quite within the rules of civilised warfare, 

sir,” assured Amy with a smile. 

223 


224 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“I see. In that case don’t let me detain you. 
Proceed with the matter in hand. Unless, 
that is, I may act as mediator? Is the—the 
question in dispute one which is open to arbi¬ 
tration?” 

“Pm afraid not,” answered Amy. “The fact 
is, sir, this fellow has a lamentable habit of speak¬ 
ing disrespectfully of his school. I have warned 
him that I didn’t like it and he persists. What 
I-” 

“It isn’t that, sir!” cried Dreer passionately. 
“He says I—I broke Durkin’s fiddle, and I didn’t, 
and the rest is only an excuse to—to fight me! 
He hasn’t any right-” 

“Dreer!” protested Amy. “I’ve explained, 
even insisted that the incident of the violin has 
nothing to do with this—er—salutary punishment 
I am inflicting. I wish you wouldn’t confuse 
things so!” 

The stranger grinned. ‘ ‘ Seems to me, ’ ’ he said, 
“all that is necessary then is for the gentleman 
with the ensanguined cheek to withdraw whatever 
derogatory remarks he may have injudiciously 
used. What do you think?” He appealed po¬ 
litely to Clint. 

“Yes, sir, I—I suppose so,” Clint agreed. 

“That’s so,” said Amy, “but he is also under 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


225 


treatment for lapse of memory, sir, or perhaps 
I should say for hesitancy of speech. I am hoping 
that presently he will remember who did break 
the violin and tell us. Have we your permission 
to continue, sir V 9 

“Hm.” The man’s eyes twinkled apprecia¬ 
tively as he returned Amy’s ingenuous regard. 
“I see that my offer of good offices was prema¬ 
ture. Pray let the argument proceed. With your 
permission I’ll stand by and see that everything 
is as it should be. ’ ’ 

Hreer’s amazement was ludicrous. “You—you 
mean you’re going to let him knock me down 
again?” he demanded incredulously. 

‘ ‘ Seems to me, ’ ’ replied the stranger judicially, 
“it’s up to you whether he knocks you down. 
Why don’t you turn the tables and do the knocking 
down yourself? It’s a beautiful morning you’ve 
chosen, gentlemen.” 

“I won’t fight, I tell you!” screamed Dreer. 
“I’ll tell Fernald of this and you’ll all be ex¬ 
pelled!” 

“We won’t worry about that yet, Dreer,” said 
Amy. “Come on, now. Let’s get through with 
this.” 

“Keep away from me!” Dreer cried. Then he 
appealed to the stranger. “Make him let me 


226 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

alone, won't yon, sir, please? I—I told him I’d 
do anything he said! ’ ’ 

“Oh, did yon?” asked the man. “Then hold 
on a bit. What is it yon want him to do, yon 
chap in the shirt-sleeves?” 

“I want him to acknowledge that he has been 
terribly mistaken about the school, for one thing.” 

“You do acknowledge that, don’t yon?” asked 
the man. 

Dreer nodded almost eagerly. Amy viewed him 
doubtfully. 

“Perhaps it would be well for him to state that 
he considers Brimfield Academy to be, to the 
best of his knowledge, the finest school in the 
world. ’ ’ 

“I—I do think so,” agreed Dreer sullenly. “I 
was just fooling.” 

“In fact,” pursued Amy, “compared to Claflin 
School, Brimfield is as a gem of purest ray to a— 
a pebble, Dreer? You are convinced of that, are 
you not?” 

“I suppose so.” 

“Only—suppose, Dreer? Couldn’t you be abso¬ 
lutely certain?” 

“Yes, I—I’m certain.” 

“Fine! Now, in regard to that violin, Dreer, 
which, you know, has nothing to do with our recent 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


227 


altercation. Could you find it convenient to tell 
us who sneaked into Durkin’s room and cracked 
it?” 

“No, I couldn’t,” muttered Dreer. 

“You see, sir?” Amy appealed to the stranger. 
4 4 Memory still pretty bad! ’ ’ 

“Hm, yes, I see. You think—ah-” 

44 Absolutely certain, sir.” 

4 4 Then, perhaps, a little more—treatment-” 

4 4 My idea exactly, sir! ’ ’ Amy advanced toward 
Dreer again, hands up. Dreer looked about at 
the unrelenting faces, and, 

4 4 1 ’ll tell! ” he cried. 4 4 1 did it. Durkin hit me. 
You were there; you saw him!” He appealed to 
Clint. 44 And—and I told him I’d get even. So— 
so I did!” He looked defiantly about him. “I 
warned him. ’ ’ 

Amy nodded and reached for his coat. The 
stranger held it for him and handed him his cap. 

44 Thank you, sir,” said Amy. 44 That’s all, 
Dreer. You may go.” 

44 1—I’ll get you into trouble for this, Byrd,” 
called Dreer as he moved away. 44 You needn’t 
think I’m through with you, you big bully!” 

Amy made no response. The stranger was 
smiling amusedly at the two boys who remained, 
flicking his cane in and out of the fallen leaves 


228 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

beside the fence. 4 4 Everything quite satisfactory 

now!” he inquired. 

4 ‘Yes, sir, thank you,” replied Amy. 

“You have a very direct way of getting re¬ 
sults,” continued the other. “Might I inquire 
your name ? ’ ’ 

“Byrd, sir. And this is Thayer.” 

“Delighted to know you both. Mind if I stroll 
along with you? I’m an old boy myself, Byrd. 
Used to be here some five years ago. My name, 
by the way, is Detweiler.” 

“Oh!” said Amy. “You’re going to help 
coach, aren’t you, sir?” 

“Yes, that’s what I’m here for. Are you play¬ 
ing?” 

“No, but Thayer is. He’s on the second, that 
is. I hope you don’t think we do this sort of thing 
regularly, Mr. Detweiler.” 

“No, I suspected that it was something rather 
extra,” replied the other drily. “Think that he 
will- What’s his name, by the way ? ’ ’ 

“Harmon Dreer.” 

44 Think he will make trouble for you, Byrd?” 

Amy shrugged. “Not with faculty, I guess. 
He wouldn’t dare. He may try to get back at me 
some other way, though. I’m not worrying. 
When did you get here, sir ? ’ ’ 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


229 


“This morning, on the eight-something. Went 
to a house in the village that George Robey wrote 
me about and found a room, and then started out 
for a stroll and broke in on your innocent amuse¬ 
ment. So far I’ve found the old place quite inter¬ 
esting ! ’ ’ And Mr. Detweiler chuckled. 

“Hope you’ll like it well enough to stay a good 
while, sir, ’ ’ said Amy. 

“Thanks. Hello! There’s a new hall since I 
was here! What do you call it?” 

“The last one on the left, sir? That’s Billings. 
I think it was built about three years ago.” 

“Aside from that things look about as they 
used to,” mused the other. Then he turned to 
Clint. “So you’re playing on the second, 
Thayer? How are you getting on? What do you 
play?” 

“Pretty well, sir. I play tackle. I’ve had a 
bum knee for a week or so, though.” 

“How’s the ’varsity shaping?” 

“Very well, I’d say. We expect to lick Claflin 
again, sir.” 

“Do, eh? That’s good. Football at Brimfield 
didn’t amount to a great deal when I was here, 
but the old school’s turned out some good elevens 
since then. Well, I’m glad to have met you chaps. 
Some day when you’ve got nothing better to do 


230 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

look me up in the village. I’m at Storer’s, a little 
white house opposite the store and post office. 
Awfully glad to have you. And—er—by the way, 
if you need evidence, Byrd, in this little matter, 
call on me. Very glad to testify to the best of 
my knowledge. Good-bye. ’ ’ 

Mr. Detweiler swung off in the direction of the 
gymnasium and the two boys, continuing toward 
Main Hall, looked after him interestedly. 

“Gee, he’s built for work, isn’t he?” mused 
Amy. 4 4 Played tackle, didn’t he ? ” 

4 4 Yes, and he was a dandy. Bet you he will 
do a lot of good here, Amy.” 

44 He seems a level-headed sort,” replied Amy. 
44 I liked the way he minded his own business back 
there. Lots of men would have hopped around 
and got excited and said, 4 Boys! Boys! This will 
never do!’ He just made up his mind that every¬ 
thing was all right and said 4 Go to it!’ ” 

44 I’m glad he came,” acknowledged Clint. 44 I 
didn’t want to see Dreer get any more, Amy.” 

44 He needed a lot more,” replied Amy grimly. 
4 4 Personally, I was a bit sorry he fessed up so 
quick. I was hoping for another whack at him!” 
4 4 You’re a bloodthirsty kid,” marvelled Clint. 
44 I am?” Amy seemed surprised. 44 Don’t you 
believe it, Clint. I’m as easy-going and soft- 


231 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

hearted as a suckling dove, whatever that is. 
Only, when some low-life like Dreer says this is 
a rotten school I don’t care for it. And when he 
does a trick like the one he did with poor old 
Penny’s fiddle I want to fight. Not, though, that 
you could call that little affair a fight,” he added 
regretfully. 4 4 Why, the silly chump wouldn’t even 
guard!’ 9 

‘To you reckon he will tell Josh?” asked Clint 
uneasily. 

“No, I don’t. He wouldn’t care to have Josh 
know about the violin business. What he will do 
is to put arsenic in our tea some day, I guess.” 

“That’s all right, then,” laughed Clint. “I 
don’t drink tea. ’ ’ 

“Or, maybe, he’ll drop a bomb through the 
transom some dark night.” 

“We’ll keep it closed.” 

“Well, if I have to teach him behaviour again 
I won’t stop so soon,” said Amy. “I’m not sure 
I don’t wish he would try some trick with me. I— 
do you know, Clint, I don’t think I quite like that 
fellow!” 

“Honest? I’d never have suspected it,” Clint 
laughed. 44 Say, how many cuts did you take ? ’ ’ 

44 Two. And there’s going to be trouble. But 
it was worth it! ” 


232 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


There was trouble, and Amy had to visit Mr. 
Fernald the next day and explain, as best he 
could, why he had missed two recitations. Un¬ 
fortunately, Amy couldn’t confide to the principal 
the nature of the business which had interfered 
with his attendance at classes, and his plea of 
indisposition was not kindly received. Still, he 
got off with nothing more serious than a warning, 
and thought himself extremely fortunate. Clint, 
who had cut only one “recit,” received merely a 
reprimand from “Horace” and an invitation to 
make up the lost work. 

Amy confided to Penny that evening that he 
and Dreer had had a misunderstanding regarding 
the respect due from a student to his school and 
that Dreer had sustained a cut cheek. And Penny 
nodded understanding^ and said: “Much obliged, 
Byrd. I wish I might have seen it.” 

“Yes, it would have done you a lot of good,” 
replied Amy cheerfully. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A KAID ON THE SECOND 

“Boots” gave Clint a fair chance to win back his 
place as first string right tackle. Every day he 
was used for half the scrimmage and Robbins for 
the other half. Robbins worked desperately, but 
by Friday Clint had proved his superiority, 
though perhaps by no great margin, and Robbins 
became second choice again. Scrimmaging with 
the 'varsity was no mere child's play now. With 
only three games intervening before the Claflin 
contest, the 'varsity coaches were allowing no 
grass to grow underfoot. Mr. Robey was now 
assisted by Mr. Detweiler and, at least five after¬ 
noons a week, some other old player. Andy 
Miller, who had captained last year's team and 
led it to a 6—0 victory, arrived about this time 
and took hold of the backs with good effect. Miller 
remained a few days at a time and continued his 
visits right up to the final game. With him occa¬ 
sionally came Hatherton Williams, last year's 
right tackle. Williams, since Detweiler had the 
tackles in hand, confided his coaching to Harris, 
233 


234 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Rollins and Freer and laboured hard and ear¬ 
nestly in an effort to improve their drop-kicking. 
Harris was fairly good at it, but Rollins was 
pretty poor and Freer was a veritable tyro. 
Other fellows appeared now and then and tried to 
be of assistance, but it is doubtful if they accom¬ 
plished much good. 

St. Clair had ousted Still permanently, it ap¬ 
peared, although Still was by no means discour¬ 
aged. Perhaps he had no time to be, for the sub¬ 
stitutes were worked quite as hard as the first 
string fellows. Coach Robey had no intention of 
being beaten for the want of capable substitutes. 
There were several very pretty contests in prog¬ 
ress for coveted positions. Churchill and Blaisdell 
were fighting hard for the left guard honour, with 
Blaisdell in the lead, and Trow and Tyler were 
nip and tuck for right tackle. The rival quarter¬ 
backs could scarcely be said to be contesting for 
the position, for it was a foregone conclusion that 
each would be used in the Claflin game. Marvin 
was a very steady, dependable player on defence, 
handled punts and ran them back in better style 
than Carmine and was never erratic. Carmine, 
however, though weak in catching and likely to 
fumble at inopportune moments, had the faculty 
of getting more speed out of the team and inspir- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


235 


ing it to greater effort. Both were good generals 
and each would be called on for what he could 
best perform. Harris was sure of his place at 
full-back, and the ends, Edwards and Roberts, 
were unchallenged. Jack Innes was a fixture at 
centre and Hall, although he had played in hard 
luck this Fall, was far superior to Gafferty, the 
second-string man. At left tackle Saunders held 
his place without question. 

So things stood on the Saturday when the ’var¬ 
sity, with a long string of substitutes, journeyed 
off to play Phillips School. Fully half the school 
went, too, and “rooted” hard for a victory. 
Phillips had been cleanly beaten last year, 12—0, 
and there was no reason to doubt that today’s 
contest would be any harder for Brimfield. At 
least, there was no reason that Brimfield knew 
of. But for once coaches and team were caught 
napping and Phillips proved a difficult problem 
to solve. In the end Brimfield trotted off—per¬ 
haps limped off would be closer to the truth— 
with Phillips’ scalp, but the score was 16—14, 
which indicates how closely defeat had hovered 
over the visitors. Only an almost miraculous 
field-goal by Rollins, who had taken Harris ’ place 
at full-back, in the third period, had saved Brim¬ 
field from disaster. 


236 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Brimfield had won two touchdowns, both in the 
first half of the game, by the hardest sort of 
plugging. Every bit of generalship that Marvin 
knew had been called on and every ounce of 
strength that the team was capable of exerting 
had been necessary. Jack Innes had kicked the 
first goal without difficulty from a rather bad 
angle and then had missed the second, also with¬ 
out difficulty, from directly in front of the posts. 
Meanwhile Phillips had scored once, getting the 
ball over on a smash through right tackle from 
the seven yards, and had followed with a goal. 
In the third period the home team had had things 
very much her own way, for, although it had not 
managed to add to its score, it had held Brim- 
field safe. The fourth quarter was also Phillips’ 
up until the last few minutes. A series of forward 
passes had carried Phillips from her own forty 
yards to Brimfield’s twenty, and from there two 
trick plays had taken her to the twelve. Three 
line attacks had netted only six and Brimfield’s 
supports were sighing their relief when-Phillips’ 
apparent attempt at a field-goal turned into a for¬ 
ward pass that landed safely in the arms of a 
Phillips end and behind the line. Again Phillips 
kicked goal, and, with some seven minutes to play, 
the score stood Phillips 14, Brimfield 13, and it 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


237 


only remained for the home team to keep the 
visitor away from her goal to hold the game. 
It was then, however, that Brimfield had given 
another exhibition of her fighting spirit. Carmine 
was put back at quarter, Rollins went in for Har¬ 
ris, and Thursby took Captain Innes’s place at 
centre. Carmine took many chances. There were 
several lateral passes which made gains, two for¬ 
ward heaves that in some unaccountable manner 
landed right, a number of end runs that helped, 
and a desperate attack at the Phillips centre be¬ 
tween these. And, almost before anyone realised 
how things were going, Brimfield was besieging 
the Phillips goal. She lost the ball on the twenty- 
six yards, recovered it again on the forty-eight 
when Phillips punted short, pulled off a double 
pass that sent Still spinning around left tackle for 
twelve yards, hurled Rollins through centre for 
four more, sent a forward pass to Edwards and 
was back again on the twenty-yard line. Phillips 
played heroically. All her best defensive talent 
was back in line and she met every onslaught with 
courage and skill. But Brimfield was not to be 
denied, it seemed. Roberts was hurt and gave way 
to Holt at right end. Saunders, who had been 
limping for some time, was taken out after a 
pile-up and Tyler took his place. Freer was sent 


238 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


in for Wendell, although the latter was still going 
strong. Freer brought instructions from Coach 
Robey, perhaps, for there was a lot of whispering 
when he reached the scene. 

With the pigskin almost on Phillips ’ fifteen 
yards and only a minute or two remaining it was 
up to Brimfield to pull off a score and do it 
quickly. It was third down, with six to go, and 
Phillips was holding better every minute. Rol¬ 
lins was sent back as if to drop-kick, but the ball 
went to Freer and Freer banged his way into 
the opposing line for a scant two yards. Churchill 
was hurt in that play and Blaisdell went back 
again at left guard. Again the ball was passed 
to Rollins, and, standing on the twenty-five yards 
and well to the left of the nearer post, he dropped 
it over for as pretty a field-goal as had ever been 
seen by the spectators. In such manner did Brim- 
field wrest victory from defeat, and the maroon- 
and-grey banners waved exultantly. But the vic¬ 
tory had cost dearly, as was discovered when the 
casualties were counted. Saunders was badly 
hurt, so badly that he was definitely out of the 
game for a fortnight at the least; Roberts had 
injured his knee and would be of no use for sev¬ 
eral days; and Churchill had sustained a pulled 
tendon in his ankle. The two latter injuries were 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 239 

of minor importance, for Rlaisdell could fill 
Churchill’s shoes for a week or so and Roberts 
would doubtless be all right again for the Southby 
contest. But the damage to Saunders meant more. 
Saunders was a good tackle—Detweiler declared 
emphatically that he was the only good one in 
sight—and it wasn’t easy to find a fellow for his 
position. Tyler was the logical choice, and Tyler 
went in, but the remaining aspirant, Crewe, was 
scarcely Varsity material, and in case of injury 
to Trow or Tyler the outlook would he had. Joe 
Detweiler pointed this fact out to Mr. Robey on 
the following Monday, after watching Crewe’s 
efforts. 

“We can’t count on Saunders coming back be¬ 
fore the Cherry Valley game, if he does then,” 
said Mr. Detweiler. “Tyler’s only fair and Trow 
is not much better. As for Crewe, he won’t make 
a good tackle before next year. He doesn’t sense 
it at all. We’ve got to find someone else, George. 
What about the second? Haven’t they got some¬ 
one there we can grab and hammer into a tackle ? 
What about that fellow Thayer? Isn’t that his 
name?” 

“Thayer’s promising,” replied Mr. Robey. 
“Then there’s Cupples. Cupples has played 
longer. Thayer’s new this Fall. Look them over, 


240 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Joe, and help yourself. Only ‘Boots’ will prob¬ 
ably scalp you! ’ ’ 

“I’ve got a tough scalp,” was the untroubled 
reply. “Anyway, we’ve got to have at least one 
good tackle. Great Scott, George, you don’t seem 
to realise what we’re up against. Why, Phillips 
went into Trow and Tyler Saturday as if they 
were paper! They’re old-style tackles, both of 
them. No one’s ever told them that the game has 
changed since the day when tackles were just line¬ 
men! Here, I’m going over there and see what 
‘Boots’ has got in his outfit.” 

There was no scrimmage with the ’varsity that 
afternoon, and Mr. Boutelle was putting his sec¬ 
ond team through a hard practice when Joe Det- 
weiler appeared on the second’s gridiron. 
“Boots” viewed his advent with suspicion and 
joined him with a belligerent expression on his 
face. 

“What are you doing over here, you spy?” he 
demanded. “Trying to get our signals?” 

“No, just looking,” replied the other inno¬ 
cently. 

“Looking at my tackles, maybe, eh? You tell 
George he can’t have any of them. How the 
dickens does he suppose I’m going to make a team 
if he keeps pulling a man out every little while?” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


241 


“That what he’s been doing?” asked Detweiler 
sympathetically, his hands in his pockets and his 
gaze fixed speculatively on the squad that was 
dashing past. “That’s Thayer on this end, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes, it is,” agreed “Boots” reluctantly. 
“Suppose you’d like him, wouldn’t you?” 

“Well, you know the fix we’re in over there, 
old man. Saunders is out of it for a fortnight 
and Trow and Tyler haven’t any ginger at all. 
We might give him back to you next week, you 
know. ’ ’ 

‘ 1 Oh, yes, I know! You ’re likely to! What I ’ll 
get will be that fellow Crewe. I don’t want him, 
understand? I wouldn’t have him on my team. 
Look here, if you only want a tackle for a week 
or so, why don’t you take Robbins? He’s a good 
man, Robbins.” 

“Is he? Which is Robbins?” Mr. Boutelle 
pointed him out. Detweiler shook his head. 

“Too straggly, ‘Boots.’ Try again. Either 
Cupples or Thayer, I guess it will have to be. 
Sorry, you know. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, you’re plumb broken-hearted, aren’t 
you?” asked “Boots ” with bitter sarcasm. As 
a relief to his feelings, he shouted pungent criti¬ 
cism at Quarter-back Hinton. “Well,” he said 


242 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

finally, “ which do yon want and when do yon want 
him?” 

“I gness we’ll take Thayer,” was the answer. 
“Tell him to report tomorrow, will you? Much 
obliged, old man. ’ ’ 

“You’re not welcome, confound you! Now get 
out of here! And tell George this is the last 
player he gets from me this Fall!” 

Detweiler departed, grinning, and “Boots” re¬ 
turned, grumbling, to his charges and was so 
cross-grained for the rest of the practice that the 
team wondered. Later, in the gymnasium, 
“Boots” approached Clint. 

“Thayer, they want you on the ’varsity,” he 
announced shortly. “Report to Coach Robey to¬ 
morrow. And for goodness’ sake show them that 
we know football over here. You’ll do well 
enough to hold your job over there, I guess, if 
you’ll just remember a few of the things I’ve 
tried to hammer into you. If you don’t you’ll 
be dumped back on my hands again, and I don’t 
want you. I warn you right now that if you come 
back to me this season you’ll go on the bench! 
I won’t have any castaways from the ’varsity 
working for me!” 

“Yes, sir; thank you, Mr. Boutelle. I’ll try my 
best, sir.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 243 

Mr. Boutelle’s frowns diminished. “Well, 
that’s all yon can do, Thayer. I’m sorry to lose 
you, and that’s a fact. And I hope you’ll make 
good. ’ ’ Then he scowled again. 4 ‘ It means learn¬ 
ing a new set of signals, confound them!” 

He went off, still grumbling, leaving Clint, at¬ 
tired principally in a towel, a prey to very varied 
emotions. 


CHAPTER XIX 


MR. DETWEILER INSTRUCTS 

“It isn’t that I’m not tickled to death about get¬ 
ting on the ’varsity,” explained Clint to Amy 
later, “but I’m mighty sorry to leave the second. 
You see, a fellow gets sort of fond of the team.’’ 

“Fond!” jeered Amy. “You’re positively fool¬ 
ish! It’s a wonder you wouldn’t go into mourn¬ 
ing!” 

“And then, too,” continued Clint, analysing his 
emotions for his own satisfaction more than for 
Amy’s benefit, “I’m scared. Suppose I don’t do 
well enough for them on the ’varsity, Amy. I’d 
feel pretty cheap if they dropped me after a day 
or two, wouldn’t I? ‘Boots’ swears he won’t 
have anything to do with me if I come hack. I— 
I sort of wish Rohey had chosen Cupples or Rob¬ 
bins. I really do!” 

“Cheer up!” said Amy. “Faint heart ne’er 
won the ’varsity! I’ll bet you’ll make ’em open 
their eyes, Clint, when you get there. One trouble 
with you is that you’re too modest. You need 
to have more—more faith in yourself, old top. 

244 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


245 


And don’t take ‘Boots’ too seriously, either. If 
you decide to return to his aggregation of world- 
beaters you ’ll find he ’ll do a heap of scolding and 
then fall on your neck. But you won’t do anything 
of the sort. I’m no football connoisseur, whatever 
that is, but I have a feeling, Clint, that you can 
play all around Trow and Tyler. Besides, after 
Joe Detweiler gets hold of you he’ll do wonders 
for you. Joking aside, Clint, I’m awfully pleased. 
It’s great! And—and it’s so mighty unexpected, 
too! That’s what gets me! Of course, I’ve al¬ 
ways known you were bound to become famous 
some day, but I didn’t suppose it was going to 
happen so soon!” 

“I didn’t suppose it was going to happen at 
all,” replied Clint rather ruefully. 

“And it’s going to be fine for me, too,” con¬ 
tinued Amy with gusto. ‘ ‘ Think what it will mean 
to be the chum of a regular 4 Greek’! ‘Hats off, 
fellows! Here comes Mr. Byrd! Good morning, 
Mr. Byrd. We trust we see you well today? And 
how is Mr. Thayer? We hope that his knee 
has quite recovered from its recent indisposi¬ 
tion!’ ” 

“You silly idiot!” laughed Clint. 

“And then, Clint, think of following your me¬ 
teoric career in the papers! As I nibble at my 


246 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


toast of a morning I prop the New York Herald 
against the water giraffe and read, spilling my 
coffee down my neck: 4 The life of the party was 
Right Tackle Thayer. Seizing the elongated 
sphere and tucking it under his strong left arm, 
Thayer dashed into the embattled line of the help¬ 
less adversary. Hurling the foe right and left 
and biting the Claflin quarter-back in the neck, 
he emerged triumphant from the melee. Dodging 
the enemy’s bewildered secondary defence, and 
upsetting the umpire with a dull thud, our hero 
dashed down the field. Line after line vanished 
behind his flying feet. Shod with the wings of 
Mercury, he sped on and on and still on toward 
the far-distant goal line. Cheers thundered from 
the encompassing stadium, met overhead, broke 
and descended upon the head of the speeding 
runner in a shower of fragmentary vowels and 
consonants. Still on and on went Right Tackle 
Thayer. Friend and enemy were far behind. 
Victory stretched eager arms toward him. With 
a last, gallant effort he plunged across the goal 
line and fell unconscious beneath the cross-bar. 
At a given signal a wreath of laurel descended 
from above and fitted about his noble brow. The 
score: Thayer, 98; Claflin, 0!’ ” 

“ Just the same,” muttered Clint, when he had 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 247 

stopped laughing, “Pm scared. And I do wish 
Robey had let me alone.’’ 

“Coward!” taunted Amy. “Quitter! Youth 
of chilly extremities!” 

“ I ’ll have to learn new signals, too. And that’s 
a beast of a job, Amy.” 

4 4 Sluggard! Lazy-bones! Dawdler! ’ ’ 

“Shut up! I wish it was you, by ginger!” 

“If it was me,” replied Amy, “do you think 
I’d be sitting there clasping my hands agonisedly? 
Not much I wouldn’t be sitting there handing 

my clasp ango- Well, I wouldn’t! I’d be out 

on the Row with my head up and my thumbs in 
the pockets of my vest; only I haven’t any vest 
on; and I’d be letting folks know what had hap¬ 
pened to me. You don’t deserve the honour of 
making the ’varsity in your fourth year, Clint. 
You don’t appreciate it. Why, look at poor old 
Freer. He’s been trying to make himself a reg¬ 
ular for three years and he’s still just a substi¬ 
tute ! ’ ’ 

“That’s what I’ll be,” said Clint. “You don’t 
suppose, do you, that they’re going to put me in 
the first line-up f ’ ’ 

“Well, not for a day or two,” answered Amy 
airily. “But after that you’ll be a regular fea¬ 
ture of the day’s entertainment. And, zowie, how 



248 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


the second will lay for yon and hand it to you! 
They’ll consider you a traitor, a renegade, a—a 
backslider, Clint, and they’ll go after you hard. 
Better lay in a full supply of arnica and sterilised 
gauze and plaster, my noble hero, for you’ll get 
yours all right, all right! ’ ’ 

“I don’t see why they need to look at it that 
way, ’ ’ objected the other. ‘ 1 I didn’t want to leave 
the second!” 

“But they won’t believe it, Clint. I’m sorry 
for you, but the path of glory is indeed hard!” 

It was. 

And Clint frequently doubted during the next 
week that glory had anything to do with it. When, 
on Tuesday afternoon, he reported to Mr. Robey, 
that gentleman cast a speculative look over him, 
nodded and said briefly: “See Mr. Detweiler, 
Thayer.” 

Clint sought the assisting coach. “Mr. Robey 
told me to report to you, sir. ’ ’ 

“Yes.” Mr. Detweiler viewed him much as 
Coach Robey had, as though trying to see not only 
what showed but what was inside as well. The 
only difference was that Mr. Detweiler smiled. 
“Well, Thayer, now let’s see.” He walked to the 
bench which the players were vacating, Clint fol¬ 
lowing, and seated himself. ‘ ‘ Sit down a minute, ’ ’ 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 249 

he directed. And when Clint was beside him he 
went on. “I really don’t know much about your 
playing, Thayer. We had to have a new tackle 
and I took you because I liked your looks the other 
day. Maybe I ought to have taken one of the 
others. What do you think ? ’’ 

Clint smiled uncertainly. “I reckon I’m not a 
fair judge,” he replied after a moment’s hesita¬ 
tion. 

‘ ‘ I suppose not. But tell me, can you play tackle 
pretty well?” 

“I’ve got along all right so far, I think. Of 
course, Cupples’s been at it longer than I have, 
Mr. Detweiler.” 

4 'What in your judgment is the biggest asset a 
tackle can have, Thayer?” 

“Brains, sir.” 

“Hm; yes, that’s so. Now, look here.” Mr. 
Detweiler laid a hand on Clint’s knee. “There’s 
a fine chance for a fellow who is willing to work 
and learn on this team. If you’ll make up your 
mind to it, you can go right ahead and play tackle 
against Claflin. But you’ll have to plug like the 
dickens, Thayer. It won’t be any picnic. I want 
a chap who is willing to work hard; not only that, 
but who will take the goad without flinching. 
Think you’re the chap?” 


250 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“I reckon so,” murmured Clint. “I’m willing, 
anyway, sir.” 

“You’re not over-enthusiastic,” laughed the 
coach, “but maybe that’s just as well. All right, 
you see what you can do. Get out there now with 
the second squad. Try to show me that I made 
a good selection, Thayer. And, by the way, I wish 
you’d drop around and see me this evening after 
study. Can you ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. I’ll look for you, then. And bring that 
friend of yours along, if he wants to come. ’ ’ 

“Byrd!” 

“Yes, that’s his name, isn’t it? Tell him I’ll 
be honoured if he will pardon the informality of 
the invitation and give me the pleasure of his so¬ 
ciety from nine to ten. That’s his style, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir.” Clint smiled. “I think he will be 
very glad to come, sir. ’ ’ 

“All right. Now get in there, Thayer, and set 
your mind on it. Show what you can do. I expect 
you to make mistakes, boy; we can correct those; 
but if I think for a moment that you’re not try¬ 
ing- Well, we can’t waste time on you in that 

case, Thayer. ’ ’ 

Clint reported to Carmine, who was personally 
conducting the substitutes around the field. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


251 


‘‘Hello!” lie greeted. “Tackle, yon say? All 
right. Follow along for awhile, will you? Now 
then, fellows, get this right! Gafferty over! 36— 
41—17—8! 36—41—17-” 

Clint tried to pick up the signals, but it was a 
hopeless task, and it was not until Mr. Robey de¬ 
tailed one of the substitutes to teach him the ’var¬ 
sity code that he was able to take part in proceed¬ 
ings. He went in at right tackle for one of the 
two fifteen-minute periods and, considering that 
he was still unfamiliar with the shifts and sig¬ 
nals, did very well. No one told him so, to be 
sure, but he knew without being told, and emerged 
from the afternoon’s practice thinking that per¬ 
haps, after all, playing on the ’varsity was not 
such a difficult thing as he had imagined it. But 
Clint’s troubles hadn’t begun yet. 

That evening when he went in to supper he cre¬ 
ated an unintentional diversion by proceeding, 
from force of habit, to the second team table. It 
was only when he got there and found no seat 
awaiting him that it dawned on him that he had 
made a mistake. The second team fellows broke 
into a roar of laughter as Clint blankly surveyed 
them and, turning hurriedly, made his way to the 
other end of the room. The rest of the fellows 
sensed the situation after a moment and Clint 


252 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


passed table after table of amused faces. Amy, 
grinning delightedly, reached far across the board 
where he sat and, pointing at Clint with a baked 
potato impaled on a fork, announced loudly: “A 
contretemps, Mr. Thayer, a veritable contre¬ 
temps!” Clint was blushing when he finally 
reached the first of the tables occupied by the Var¬ 
sity players and found a vacant chair. There, 
too, amused glances awaited him, and he was 
heartily glad when Freer laughingly pulled him 
into the seat beside him. 

They got a half-hour’s leave from the Hall 
Master after supper, which allowed them to re¬ 
main out of the dormitory until half-past ten, and, 
as soon as study hour was over, set out for the 
village and Mr. Detweiler’s. When they reached 
his room in the little boarding house they found 
Mr. Boutelle there, but he left almost at once. Mr. 
Hetweiler made them comfortable, apologising for 
the unattractiveness of his quarters. 

“The fact is, fellows,” he explained, “I didn’t 
expect to stay over the week when I came, and so 
brought nothing but a kit-bag. But Robey thinks 
I ought to see him through, and, to tell the truth, 
I’m rather keen to myself. You don’t play the 
noble game of football, Byrd?” 

“No, sir,” replied Amy modestly. “You see, 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


253 


I developed at the wrong end.” He tapped his 
forehead significantly. 

4 'That’s hard on yon and me, Thayer,” laughed 
the coach. 4 ‘Well, what do you do for exercise?” 

“Tennis, some.” 

“He won the singles championship this Fall, 
sir,” explained Clint. 

“Really? That’s fine. I’m a bit of a tennis 
enthusiast myself. Played on the team three 
years in college. Some before that. Tennis was 
about the only thing we specialised in when I was 
here. By the way, did you get into difficulties 
over the disciplining of that fellow, whatever his 
name is?” 

“No, sir, we haven’t heard anything from it 
yet. He’d hardly be likely to say much, would 
he?” 

“I fancy not. Have you met him since?” 

“Oh, we see him every day. He rooms next 
door in Torrence.” 

“And what about the chap whose violin he 
broke ?’ ’ 

“Durkin? Oh, Penny’s making about as much 
noise as before. He says the fiddle he’s using now 
isn’t nearly as good as the one Dreer busted, but 
I can’t see much difference myself. Can you, 
Clint?” 


254 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Clint shook his head sorrowfully. “ Sounds 
even louder to me,” he said. 

“I must drop around some time and hear him 
perform,” laughed the coach. “He must be 
something of a character.” Amy agreed that he 
was, and narrated two or three anecdotes concern¬ 
ing Penny to prove it. Mr. Detweiler evidently 
found Amy’s discourse amusing and drew him out 
until he was in the full flood of his eloquence. 
But when they had been there a half hour or so 
their host abruptly switched the conversation. 

“I want to talk shop with Thayer a little,” he 
announced. “You won’t mind, Byrd? There are 
some magazines in front of you if you like to 
read.” 

“Thanks, I’ll just listen, sir. It always amuses 
me to hear folks get excited about football.” 

“Oh, we’re not going to get excited, Byrd.” 
Mr. Detweiler hitched his chair around a trifle and 
faced Clint. “How did you get on today?” he 
inquired. 

“Fairly well, I reckon. I didn’t know the sig¬ 
nals very well. I don’t yet, for that matter.” 

“No, it’ll take a day or two to forget the others 
and remember ours. There are two or three things 
I noticed about your playing this afternoon, 
Thayer, and I want to speak of them while they’re 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


255 


fresh in my mind. In the first place, yon played 
too close to your guard on defence as a general 
thing. Open up there and, above all, don’t play 
between opponents. I mean by that, don’t try to 
get through on defence between two men. Select 
one and play him. Usually it will be the outside 
man, and your game is to put him against his 
inside man or side-step him. As a general thing 
your position on defence is a foot or so outside 
the opposing end player, although there are one 
or tw T o formations when that isn’t so. Another 
thing I noticed was that, while you watched the 
ball well, you were liable to let the other man 
get the jump on you. As soon as the ball is 
snapped, Thayer, get busy with your arms. There 
are two main factors in the playing of a tackle 
position. One is head and the other is arms. Use 
your head all the time and your arms most of the 
time. As soon as the ball is snapped, out with 
your arms, Thayer. Lunge against the opponent. 
Get him first and hold him off until you can see 
where the ball’s going. Don’t try to break 
through blindly. Hold him at arm’s length, keep 
your legs out of the way and then put him in or 
out, as the case may be, and go through for the 
runner. If you can get your arms on the other 
fellow before the ball is snapped, do it, but don’t 


256 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


try it too long before or you won’t be able to 
hold it. Try for the neck and arm position. It’s 
the best. You can swing a man either way if you 
have that. If he gets under your arms and boxes 
you don’t try to push forward by main force, 
because you’ll be only wasting your strength. 
Back away and get around him. 

“Of course, you know that the play is usually 
to charge your opponent toward the centre. Play 
to get around the opposing end on the outside and 
block the runner. If he finds you’ve got past and 
are waiting for him he will likely turn in and try 
to get through nearer the centre of the line, and 
the centre of the line is the hardest to gain 
through. So ‘turn ’em in’ is the regular rule, 
Thayer. On attack keep close to your guard and 
help him on plays inside your position. Learn to 
work smoothly with him. Usually you’ll be able 
to settle between you whether you’re to help him 
or go out and help the end. It depends on the 
play and on how strong the guard is. When you 
make a hole, make it clean; and don’t stop when 
it’s made. Keep on playing until the ball is down. 
And don’t trust the horn for it, either. See it 
down yourself. 

“When the runner is through the hole it’s often 
up to you to say whether he’s to make three yards 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 257 

or thirty. Look for the man who’s in position to 
stop the runner and get to him and put him out of 
it. Play the game every minute, Thayer. Be al¬ 
ways on the lookout for trouble and try to get a 
finger in it. And, another thing, and I’ve been 
dinning this into the men all the week, don’t slow 
down before tackling. Tackle hard, Thayer. Put 
on a little extra steam at the last moment and 
smash into it! Don’t merely stop your man; 
anyone can do that; but put him back when you 
hit him. Make him fall toward his own goal, and 
not toward yours. Sometimes there’s a difference 
of two yards right there. And besides, and I say 
this because I know it to be so, there’s nothing 
that takes the starch out of a backfield man who 
is catching a punt or running it in like knowing 
that he’s going to be tackled hard. He has it on 
his mind when he’s catching the ball. He knows 
he’s got to get it right and hug it hard or he will 
lose it. And it’s a dollar to a dime he will get 
over-anxious and nervous. A team that tackles 
fiercely and for keeps will have its opponents 
making fair-catches before the second half starts. 
Well, that’s enough for tonight. If I hurl too 
much wisdom at you you won’t remember any of 
it. Besides, Byrd over there is yawning already. ’ ’ 
“Oh, no, sir, I found your discourse most inter- 


258 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


esting,” assured Amy. “And I do hope our 
young friend will profit by the advice. I some¬ 
times think he shows real promise, Mr. Det- 
weiler. ’’ 

“Well, we’ll hope he will later on show fulfil¬ 
ment, Byrd. I don’t want to frighten you, Thayer, 
hut you’re likely to hear all this stuff over again, 
and a heap more like it. These little lectures of 
mine occur frequently. I hope you weren’t as 
bored as your friend here.” 

“No, sir, and I’ll try to remember what you 
told me.” 

‘ 4 In case you shouldn’t I ’ll tell you again soon, ’ ’ 
laughed the coach. “Rome wasn’t made in a day 
nor a good tackle in one lecture. Now we’ll talk 
of something that Byrd can come in on.” 


CHAPTER XX 


'varsity vs. second team 

Saunders, who was going around on crutches 
those days, viewed the advent of Clint on 
the 'varsity squad with misgiving, but he was 
very nice to him whenever the opportunity 
occurred. The same was true of the older 
candidates for the tackles positions, Trow, 
Tyler and Crewe. It was evident to a blind man 
from the first that Coach Detweiler had made 
up his mind that if such a thing were possible 
Clinton Thayer was to be converted into a tackle 
of 'varsity calibre. Hence the other candidates, 
especially those who had been practically certain 
of their positions, could not be blamed for feeling 
a little resentment toward both Mr. Detweiler and 
Clint. That they refrained from showing it was 
creditable. But Clint felt it even if he didn't have 
optical or auricular evidence of it and for the first 
few days at least experienced some embarrass¬ 
ment and constraint. 

But life was too busy to leave him much time 
for troubling about whether or not Saunders and 
259 


260 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

the others approved of his presence. His work 
was cut out for him from the start. Mr. Detweiler 
was forever at his heels and Mr. Detweiler’s voice 
was forever raised in criticism or instruction. 
More than once Clint felt like giving up. Toward 
the end of that first week it seemed to him that the 
coach paid no heed to anyone but just Clint 
Thayer and that nothing Clint Thayer did was 
ever quite right! But he never did give up, how¬ 
ever. He was often discouraged, sometimes 
angry, always tired out when work was over, but 
he kept on trying. 

Mr. Detweiler dogged his footsteps every min¬ 
ute, or so it seemed to Clint. Returning from 
practice the coach w T ould frequently range himself 
alongside and deliver one of his brief lectures. 
Sometimes he would intercept him between locker 
and shower and fell him something he had for¬ 
gotten earlier. On Thursday evening Clint found 
him awaiting him in Number 14 Torrence when he 
returned from supper, and, punctuated by lugubri¬ 
ous wails from Penny Durkin’s violin, the coach 
delivered a twenty-minute lecture on ‘ 4 The Duties 
of a Tackle on Offence when the Play is on the 
Other side of Centre.” Clint got so he dreamed 
of football and neglected his studies wofully until 
both Mr. Simkins and Mr. Jordan remonstrated. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 261 

In the Southby game, which was played at Brim- 
field, Clint started in place of Trow at right tackle, 
with Tyler at left. Offensively he showed up 
particularly well, but it must be acknowledged 
that on the defence he was far from perfect. The 
Southby left end was a clever player and Clint’s 
efforts to out-guess that youth were not very suc¬ 
cessful. Several times during the two periods in 
which he played the runner went over or around 
Clint for good gains. Considering it afterwards, 
it was a surprise to him that he had not been 
taken out before he was. Perhaps, though, the 
fact that Brimfield scored twice in the first period 
and so secured a lead that was never threatened 
had something to do with it. Probably the 
* coaches were willing to sacrifice some yards of 
territory in exchange for experience for the new 
tackle. At all events, when, at the commencement 
of the third quarter, Clint’s name was not in the 
line-up and Clint bundled himself in a blanket 
and took his place on the bench, Mr. Robey 
paused long enough to say: “Watch your game, 
Thayer. You did pretty well.” 

If Clint did not cover himself with glory, 
neither, for that matter, did Trow, Tyler or 
Crewe, all of whom played at some time during 
the game. With Saunders laid off, the tackle 


262 LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 

positions were the weakest spots in the line. 
With most of the line attacks “skin tackle’’ 
plays, as they were that year, the tackle positions 
should have been the strongest of all. Only the 
fact that Southby was weak on offence saved 
Brimfield from a beating. Blaisdell and Hall, and, 
later, Churchill and Gafferty were forced to aid 
the tackles to such an extent that they were used 
up very quickly. Tyler made the best showing 
that day of any of the tackles, but even Tyler 
was by no means perfect. On forward passes 
to the opposing end he utterly failed to get his 
man, and, since the same was true of Trow on 
the other end, Southby made some alarming mid- 
field gains by that method, while it was Edwards 
who spoiled a touchdown for the visitors by inter¬ 
cepting a forward pass on his five-yard line in 
the third period. Southby went down in defeat 
to the tune of 17—3. As last year’s score had 
been Brimfield 39, Southby 7, there was little en¬ 
couragement to be discovered, especially as the 
Southby team was no better than, if as good as, 
the former one. On the whole, that Saturday’s 
contest was rather disappointing, and when the 
Sunday morning papers announced that Claflin 
had run rings around the strong Mendell Hall 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 263 

team, winning by a score of 41—6, Brimfield’s 
stock sank perceptibly. 

There was a meeting of the coaches that Sunday 
evening at Mr. Robey’s room in the village. Mr. 
Robey, Mr. Boutelle, Mr. Detweiler, Andy Miller 
and Jack Innes were present, and, although the 
school never learned what was said or done, it 
was felt that strenuous measures had been de¬ 
cided on. On Monday there was no scrimmage 
and most of the fellows who had participated in 
Saturday’s game to any extent were sent two or 
three times around the track and then dismissed 
for the day. The rest were put through a hard 
drill in fundamentals, the coaches looking glum 
and stern and determined. Clint was not one of 
the fortunate exempts, but went through the 
hardest afternoon he ever had. Of the tackles 
only Tyler was absent. The rest of them were 
bullied and browbeaten and hustled for a solid 
hour and a half until Clint, for one, scarcely 
knew whether he was on his head or hi's 
heels. 

It was rumoured around that afternoon that 
“S.O.S.” calls had been sent out in all direc¬ 
tions and that the middle of the week would find 
an army of assistant coaches on hand. The army 
failed to materialise, but by Tuesday four special- 


264 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


ists had joined the array of coaching talent and 
there was an instructor for every position on 
the team. The practice that afternoon was more 
grim and businesslike than ever before. No one 
was admitted to that part of the field who was 
not either a member of the team or a coach. 
There was thirty minutes of individual instruc¬ 
tion, twenty minutes of signal work, and finally 
two fifteen-minute scrimmage periods with the 
second team. And what the ’varsity did to the 
second that day was a pity! With seven coaches 
urging them on, the ’varsity players performed 
desperately. The new plays to be used against 
Claflin were tried out and worked well. The 
’varsity scored two touchdowns in the first period 
and one in the second, and kicked a field-goal 
when, with only a minute left, it had reached the 
second team’s eighteen yards. On the other hand, 
the second failed to gain consistently inside the 
’varsity’s danger zone and both of Martin’s drop- 
kicks went wfide. The ’varsity’s defence was bet¬ 
ter than it had been at any time that Fall, and 
even the tackles showed up well. 

Saunders had discarded crutches and managed 
a slow jog once around the track that afternoon, 
and it was fully expected that he would be in 
shape to get back to work the first of the next 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 265 

week. Clint and Tyler played through most of 
that scrimmage, and Clint, unmercifully prodded 
by Detweiler and anyone else who happened to 
think of it—showed real form on defence. He 
was opposed to Captain Turner, of the second, 
and Turner was a crafty end. That Clint was 
able, more than once, to get around Turner and 
stop the runner well behind the line spoke well 
for him. On forward passes, too, he used his 
head and twice managed to get to the receiver and 
spoil the play. It was a tired lot of boys who 
tramped back to the gymnasium that Thursday 
afternoon at dusk, and there were many bruises 
to be seen to, for the two teams had battled as 
fiercely as though they had been the deadliest 
enemies. Clint fell asleep in the middle of study 
hour with his head on his Latin book, and Amy 
sympathetically let him slumber. 

On Friday, contrary to established custom, 
practice was hard as ever and the scrimmage with 
the second was drawn out to forty minutes of 
actual playing time. The game with Cherry Val¬ 
ley on the morrow was not looked on as a difficult 
one and it was noised about that Coach Robey 
meant to put in a full set of substitutes in the 
second half. The Varsity was severely tested in 
defence that day. Five times the second was 


266 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


given the pigskin inside the ’varsity’s fifteen- 
yard line and instructed to take it across by 
rushing and four times they failed. The fifth 
time, with the ball on the three yards, they were 
given two extra downs and finally piled through 
Tyler for the last needed six inches. Tyler went 
out after that, pretty well worsted, and Trow took 
his place. Clint had escaped damage so far, but 
had been called on to repel many an attack, and 
was glad enough when time was called and they 
were allowed to return to the bench for a five- 
minute intermission. 

After the rest—if it could be called a rest when 
seven coaches were criticising and instructing 
every minute—the scrimmage developed into 
straight football. The second kicked off and, 
after the ’varsity had failed to get its distance in 
three downs, Harris fell back to punt. Harris 
was a left-foot kicker and was accustomed to 
taking a pretty long stride to the left side before 
he swung. He was very deliberate about it, too, 
and the line had to hold hard and long in order 
to enable him to get the ball off safely. When it 
did go it went well and accurately, but in the 
present instance it didn’t go. Cupples, of the 
second, had no difficulty in getting through Trow, 
and it was Cupples who knocked the ball down 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 267 

just as it left Harris’ foot. Fortunately Marvin 
fell on the pigskin for a fifteen-yard loss. 

Harris raged and sputtered and the coaches 
stood over the unfortunate Trow and read him 
the riot act. But two minutes later the same 
thing happened again, although on this occasion 
Guppies only tipped the ball with his upstretched 
fingers. There was a hurried conference of the 
coaches and Clint was yanked out of the right 
side of the line and put in place of Trow, the 
latter going to left tackle. Mr. Robey demanded 
a punt at once in order to test the new arrange¬ 
ment and Cupples, grinning wickedly at Clint, 
prepared to repeat his act. But Cupples had the 
surprise of his life, for the first thing he knew 
Clint’s right hand was on the side of his neck 
and Clint’s left hand was under his armpit and 
he found himself thrust around against his guard. 
And that was as near to breaking through 
as Cupples came for the rest of the scrim¬ 
mage. 

Four coaches thumped Clint on the back and ex¬ 
citedly praised him, and Clint felt suddenly that 
to defeat the wicked machinations of the ambitious 
Cupples was the biggest thing in life. After that 
it was a battle royal between them, Cupples using 
every bit of brain and sinew he possessed to out- 


268 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


wit his opponent and Clint watching him as a 
cat watches a mouse and constantly out-guessing 
him and “ getting the jump " time after time. 
Cupples had a bleeding lip and a smear of brown 
earth down one cheek and was a forbidding look¬ 
ing antagonist, and for hours after practice was 
over Clint had only to close his eyes to visualise 
the angry, intense countenance of his opponent. 
Had Clint but known it, he was not a very pretty 
object himself just then. Someone's boot had 
rubbed the skin from his left cheek and the blood 
had caked there, well mixed with dirt, until he 
looked quite villainous. 

The 'varsity scored twice by straight football 
and once by the use of tricks which were designed 
to outwit Claflin a week later. The second man¬ 
aged a field-goal from the fifteen yards. Toward 
the end the 'varsity used substitutes freely, but 
Clint played through to the last, emerging with 
many an aching bone, a painful shortness of 
breath and a fine glow of victory. Mr. Det- 
weiler, red-faced and perspiring, caught him 
on the side line as he dragged his tired feet 
toward the blanket pile. “ All right, Thayer? ” 
he asked anxiously. 

“ Yes, sir," panted Clint. 

“ Good! Get in as soon as you can and have 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 269 

a good rub. You played real football, boy, and 
I’m proud of you! Keep it up! ” 

“ Y °u ^et I will! ” murmured Clint to himself, 
as he turned toward the gymnasium. •“ I’ll show 
Cupples that he can’t come through me, the big 
guy! ” 

Ten minutes later, refreshed by his shower, he 
ran into Cupples outside the door to the rubbing 
room. Cupples, a piece of surgeon’s plaster 
adorning his lip, grinned. Clint grinned back. 

“ Some game,” he said. 

“ Was it! ” agreed Cupples. “ Clint, you’ve 
got the rest of them all backed off the map! 
Saunders hasn’t a thing on you, old man, and 
I’ve played against him and know. I hope they 
keep you there.” 

‘ 4 Thanks, Cupples, but if the Claflin chap is any 
tougher than you are I guess Saunders is welcome 
to his job whenever he wants it back.” 

“ Well, say,” chuckled the other, “ we had a 
good time, didn’t we? ” 

“ Great! ” assented Clint. 

And, he reflected as he went on, now that it was 
all over so they had! 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE LETTER THAT WASN'T WRITTEN 

The Cherry Valley game came off the next after¬ 
noon, and the school turned out with songs and 
cheers and marched across to the gridiron to 
watch the last contest before the final and supreme 
test. It was a cold, cloudy day, with a biting 
northeast wind sweeping down the field. Most of 
the assisting coaches had gone away over the 
week-end, Mr. Robey and Andy Miller had jour¬ 
neyed to Claflin to see the game there and Mr. 
Detweiler was left in charge at home. Cherry 
Valley had been defeated 27—6 last year and 
was not looked on as at all dangerous. Her team 
was light in weight and looked even less compe¬ 
tent than it proved, since whatever might have 
been said in criticism of it, it was fast. Brim- 
field started the game with her best foot forward. 
With the exception of Clint at left tackle, the 
line-up consisted of first-string players. Tyler 
played in his old place at right tackle. Brimfield 
was not to show anything in the way of new plays, 
in case Claflin had thought it worth while to send 
270 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 271 

scouts, and to that extent the Maroon-and-Grey 
was handicapped. 

The first period ran along* without a score on 
either side. Brimfield couldn’t seem to get 
started. There was more fumbling on both sides 
than was necessary, even when the wind was taken 
into consideration, and each team lost the ball 
twice at critical moments. Brimfield worked down 
to the Cherry-Red twenty-two yards, lost a couple 
of yards by a fumble, tried the left end for no 
gain and essayed a goal from the field. But dis¬ 
tance and wind were too much for Harris. After 
that there was much punting on Cherry Valley’s 
part, evidently in the hope that a Brimfield back 
would fumble. And Brimfield backs did fumble, 
for the wind made certain judgment of kicks im¬ 
possible, but fortunately the ball was recovered 
each time without much loss. The first period 
ended with the ball in midfield in Cherry Valley’s 
possession. 

Carmine went in for Marvin, since, with the 
wind against her, Cherry Valley would not be 
likely to do much punting and Carmine’s back- 
field unsteadiness would not count. He managed 
to get more speed into the Maroon-and-Grey and 
toward the end of the period two long punts, 
poorly returned, put her within scoring distance. 


272 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 


On the thirty yards Brimfield uncorked her real 
offence and Kendall and Harris and St. Clair 
hammered the line and skirted the ends and finally 
plugged through for a hard-earned touchdown. 
The punt-out was missed and so Brimfield was not 
able to add a 1 to the 6. 

Thirty seconds after the kick-off Carmine faked 
a forward pass and started around his own left 
end and, eluding most of the Cherry Valley team by 
some of the best dodging that had been seen that 
season, put the pigskin back on the Bed’s twenty- 
four yards. A forward pass, Harris to Edwards, 
gained eight, and Harris made it first down past 
left tackle. Kendall worked the centre for three 
and Harris romped around the right for six more. 
Carmine plunged through centre for the distance. * 
Harris went back as if to kick and the ball shot to 
St. Clair and that elusive youth fairly streaked 
across the field and, finding a hole, shot through 
and over the line for the second score. This time 
Innes kicked the goal and the tally was 13—0. 
There was no more scoring in that period, al¬ 
though Cherry Valley sent the spectators’ hearts 
into their throats by getting a back off away on a 
long run down the side of the field which, but for 
a splendid tackle by Kendall, would have resulted 
in a touchdown. With the pigskin in Cherry Val- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


273 


ley’s possession on the home team’s sixteen yards 
the half ended. 

Mr. Detweiler and “Boots” scolded and 
threatened during half-time. The team had 
played, declared the latter, like a lot of helpless 
idiots. What was the matter with them? Did 
they think they were there to loaf? For two 
cents Mr. Boutelle would yank the whole silly 
bunch off the field and finish the game with the 
second team! He would, by Ginger! 

After that Mr. Detw'eiler more quietly pointed 
out some dozen or fifteen of the most glaring 
faults displayed and read a new line-up. With 
the exception of Clint, Hall, Carmine and Tyler 
every fellow was new. “And now,” said Mr. 
Detweiler, “ let’s see what you can do this half. 
Do something, anyway! Stop loafing! If you 
can’t play football, wave your arms and make a 
noise! ” 

Brimfield wisely chose to play a kicking game 
at the beginning of the third period, since, with 
the wind behind her, Freer’s high corkscrews were 
particularly effective. Freer didn’t try for much 
distance with his punts. What he did was to 
send them well into the air and let the wind do 
the rest. The result was that the pigskin sailed 
down the field for anywhere from thirty-five to 


274 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


fifty yards and came down in the most unexpected 
places. Cherry Valley very sensibly made no 
effort to run back punts, but signalled a fair- 
catch every time, which made it easier for the 
Brimfield ends and tackles, since they, no more 
than the enemy, could tell where the erratic ball 
was going to descend. Cherry Valley attempted 
io run the ends and succeeded now and then, punt¬ 
ing only on fourth down when everything else 
had failed. After a dozen plays Brimfield had 
gained half the distance to the Red’s goal without 
having put her new backfield to the test. There, 
however, a fumble by Still changed the complexion 
of things, for the ball was recovered by a tall 
Cherry Valley guard and that youth eluded the 
opponents and carried the pigskin past the centre 
of the field and was pulled down on Brimfield’s 
forty-two yards by Carmine. 

That seemed to give the visitors the encourage¬ 
ment they had lacked, for they at once started in 
with a bewildering set of fast criss-crosses and 
double-passes and so deceived the substitute 
backfield that they made to first downs before a 
halt was called. Then, with six yards to go on 
third down, the Red pulled off a forward pass of 
startling length and precision and the catcher was 
run out at the Maroon-and-Grey’s twenty-five- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


275 


yard line. Cherry Valley tried Brimfield’s left 
end and gained four, slid off Clint for three more, 
tried the same place again and was stopped for 
no gain and punted short and across field to Car¬ 
mine on his eight yards. 

Carmine slipped past the Red’s left end and 
started on a wide run, looking for a chance to cut 
in. But advance was blocked thoroughly and he 
was finally down on his ten-yard line. A plunge 
by Rollins gained two and Freer got past the 
right tackle for three more. Then Freer was sent 
back to his goal line to punt. Thursby, at centre, 
passed low, and Freer was hurried, with the result 
that the ball went almost straight into the air, was 
caught by the wind and landed out of bounds 
at Brimfield’s eighteen yards. Cherry Valley 
started in again with grim determination. A 
weak spot was discovered at right guard, where 
Gatferty was in Hall’s place, and two gains were 
made there, bringing the pigskin to the twelve 
yards. Another attempt, this time on Tyler, pro¬ 
duced two more. With two to go on fourth down, 
Cherry Valley elected to kick and her right half¬ 
back, who performed the drop-kicking, fell back 
to the eighteen yards. 

The ball was opposite the left-hand goal post 
and a three-point tally appeared inevitable. 


276 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Carmine and Still, the latter acting-captain in 
Jack Innes’s absence, implored the forwards 
to block the kick. There was an instant of 
comparative silence, broken only by the quar¬ 
ter’s hoarse voice as he gave the signal, 
and then the two lines heaved at each other 
and the ball sped back to the kicker. His 
eyes sought the goal, the ball dropped, his 
leg swung and through the din of cries and the 
rasping of canvas came the thud of foot and ball. 
But it was followed by another thud, the hollow 
sound of the pigskin striking the chest of the 
Maroon-and-Grey’s left tackle, and back up the 
field bounded the ball. Clint had chosen the op¬ 
posing tackle as his prey, had swung him out and 
broken through somehow between him and guard. 
A half-back had thrown himself in his way, but 
Clint had staggered over or past him and leaped 
desperately into the path of the ascending ball. 
He had felt the resounding smack of it under his 
chin and, recovering from the force of the impact, 
had, even as he found his feet again, seen it bound 
away past the frantic kicker, seen that youth go 
down under the sturdy Holt, and had started 
instantly in pursuit. Behind him thudded friend 
and foe, from one side darted the Cherry Valley 
quarter-back. The ball was wobbling left and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 277 

right a dozen yards away. Clint strove to put 
himself in the way of the quarter, but that player, 
with a burst of speed, ran free and dived for the 
ball. Clint toppled on top of the quarter. And 
then, just how he never knew, he had the ball 
snuggled under his chest, the quarter ineffectually 
seeking a hold on it! 

“ Brimfield’s ball! ” announced the referee, 
heeling. 4 i First down right here! ’ ’ 

That was Cherry Valley’s last threat. Later, in 
the fourth quarter, she reached the Maroon-and- 
Grey’s twenty-seven yards but was forced to punt 
after two attempted forward passes had failed. 
Brimfield secured two more touchdowns, one in 
each period, and twice failed at field-goals, Rol¬ 
lins’s drop-kicking proving far from first-class. 
Freer took the ball over for the first score in the 
second half, and Marvin, who replaced Carmine 
toward the end of the last period, squirmed 
through from the four yards for the second. 
Freer failed to convert his touchdown into a goal, 
but Marvin very neatly added a point to his, and 
the final score read Brimfield, 26; Cherry Valley, 
0; which was a more satisfactory result than last 
year’s. 

The school showed a strong disposition to 
lionize Clint for his blocking of Cherry Valley’s 


278 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

drop-kick, and when he entered the dining hall 
that evening he received more applause than any 
of the other players. It was his first experience 
of being clapped to his seat and he found himself 
heartily wishing that the Varsity training-tables 
had been located nearer the door! 

The football mass-meeting that night was en¬ 
thusiastic to a degree, and even the news that 
Claflin had beaten Larchville that afternoon 11 to 
0 failed to dampen the fervour of the songs and 
cheers that rang through the hall. It was recalled 
that a year ago Larchville, who had then held the 
same position on Claflin’s schedule, had defeated 
the latter 12 to 6, and that subsequently the best 
Brimfield had been able to do with Claflin was 
6 to 0. Consequently it would seem that Claflin 
was stronger this year than last. Unfortunately, 
however, Brimfield had not played Larchville this 
season, owing to the fact that Larchville, having 
beaten Brimfield 17 to 3 last year, had insisted 
that the next meeting should be at Larchville, an 
arrangement Brimfield had not been willing to 
consent to. For this reason it was not possible to 
compare the strength of Brimfield and Claflin with 
any certainty. Andy Miller, who was prevailed on 
to address the mass-meeting, declared it to be his 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 279 

conviction that Claflin had a slightly stronger 
team than she had had last Fall. 

“ I think,” he explained, “ that it is a little 
more evenly developed. She is surer in all depart¬ 
ments than she was a year ago. Like us, the Blue 
started the season with five of her old men in the 
line-up, and, like us, she had a good crowd of 
substitutes to pick from. Her captain and quar¬ 
ter-back, Ainsmith, is one of the best in the game 
today, and in her full-back, Atkinson, whom you 
probably remember, she has another star. Her 
halves are new men, but they’re fast and hard to 
stop. In the line, tackle to tackle, I think we’ll 
even up with them. As for our ends, I believe we 
can show better goods than they can, although 
Mumford, who played with them last year, is a 
very good man. I’m not telling you this to dis¬ 
courage you, for I firmly believe we’re going to 
win, but I don’t want you to think that it’s going 
to be a walk-over, for it isn’t, not by any manner 
of means. We’ve got to work hard and use every¬ 
thing we know if we ’re to have the long end of the 
score a week from today. That’s what our team 
has got to do. As for you fellows, you’ve got to 
stand right up behind it every minute and make 
it feel that you have confidence in it. I can’t be 
here to see the game myself; I wish I could; but I 


280 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


fully expect to take up the paper a week from 
tomorrow morning and read that Brimfield has 
turned the trick again. And I expect to read, too, 
that a notable feature of the contest was the 
whole-souled, hearty support given the Maroon- 
and-Grey by their fellows! That’s all I’ve got 
to say to you. The team’s going to do its part. 
You do yours.” 

The next day dawned fair and warm, with an 
almost imperceptible haze in the atmosphere, a 
veritable Indian summer day if ever there was 
one. After dinner, a rather more hearty meal than 
was served to the football players on week-days, 
Clint went back to his room with the noble inten¬ 
tion of writing a fine long letter to his father and 
mother. There had been complaints from Cedar 
Run of late to the effect that Clint’s epistles were 
much too brief. Today he resolved to send at 
least eight pages. He would tell them all about 
the fine weather and yesterday’s game—mention¬ 
ing quite incidentally his own part in it—and the 
football spirit that prevailed throughout the Acad¬ 
emy and—and About this time Clint found 

himself smothering a yawn and viewing distaste¬ 
fully the writing pad in front of him. Through 
the open windows came the sound of voices borne 
on the still, soft air, and he pushed back his chair 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 281 

and wandered to the casement. Across the field 
the Autumn woods were brown and sunlit and 
their depths filled with a purple haze. Roys were 
strolling in couples and groups across the yellow¬ 
ing turf. After a minute Clint went back to the 
table, looked indecisively at the still clean sheet 
of paper awaiting his pen, picked up his cap from 
the chair and, with a guilty backward glance, stole 
out of the room. He felt very much as though 
he was playing hookey, a feeling which per¬ 
haps naturally increased his pleasure as he 
ran down the stairs and issued forth on the 
Row. 

Penny Durkin was seated on the steps with a 
text-book in hand, but Clint noted that Penny's 
gaze was fixed on the distance. The fact acted as 
a salve for Clint's conscience. If Penny couldn’t 
study today, Penny who had been known to play 
his fiddle even while he stuffed Greek or Latin or 
mathematics, surely no one else could rightfully 
be expected to fix his mind on letter-writing! 
Clint halted a moment on the walk and Penny's 
gaze and thoughts came back from afar and he 
blinked up at the other. 

‘ ‘ Hi!" said Penny dreamily. 

“ Hi," returned Clint. 

“ Warm, isn't it? " 


282 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“ Yes, great.” 

“ I thought I’d study a little, but I guess I was 
almost asleep.” 

“ Day-dreaming,” suggested Clint. There was 
a moment’s silence, during which an odd idea oc¬ 
curred to Clint. He didn’t much care to walk by 
himself, and he didn’t know where to look for Amy 
or any of the other fellows who might care to 
join him. Why not, then, ask Penny Durkin! 
Before he had thoroughly weighed the merits of 
the scheme he found himself making the sug¬ 
gestion. 

“ Come on for a walk, Durkin,” he said. 
“ Bring your old book along if you like. We’ll 
find a place in the woods and, as Amy says, com¬ 
mune with Nature.” 

Penny looked first surprised and then pleased, 
and, “ I’d love to,” he said. So they set 
off together around the corner of Torrence and 
past the little brick building which held the heating 
plant and made off across the field. The sun was 
gloriously warm and the air was like that of a 
June day, and after the first minute or two of 
progress they discovered that they had no inclina¬ 
tion toward hurrying, that, in short, they felt de¬ 
cidedly lazy and drowsy, and that the sooner they 
reached that place in the woods where they were 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 283 

to commune with Nature the pleasanter it would 
be. 

Conversation was fitful. Penny spoke hesitantly 
of Clint’s good work in yesterday’s game, ven¬ 
tured a vague prediction that Brimfield would win 
from Claflin on Saturday and then seemed to fall 
asleep. Clint made no effort to arouse him and 
presently they climbed over the stone wall that 
divided the school property from the woodland 
and made their way through the trees until they 
were half-way up the slope. There, in the lee of 
an outcropping grey ledge of weathered granite, 
they subsided on a bed of leaves with sighs of 
contentment. Through the nearer trees and 
above the more distant ones, they could see the 
further side of the field and the sunlit buildings. 

“ I reckon,” said Clint, propping his shoulders 
against a convenient surface of the ledge, “ this 
is the place we were looking for. Now, bring on 
your Nature and we’ll commune.” 

“ I used to come up here when I was a First 
Former,” said Penny. “ Two or three of us kids 
would sneak stuff from dining hall and build 
a fire back of this rock and picnic. One day we 
went off and forgot about the fire and that night 
someone looked over and saw a blaze and they had 
to fight it for almost an hour with brooms and 


284 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

buckets of water. We had a fine time! Every¬ 
one turned out. We never told what we knew 
about it, though! ” And Penny smiled reminis¬ 
cently. 

“ You’re in the sixth form this year, aren’t 
you? ” asked Clint. 

“ Yes, this is my last year.” 

“And you’ve been here five already! ” Clint 
marvelled. “ My, that’s a long time, isn’t it? 
You’ll feel queer, won’t you, when you don’t come 
back next Fall? ” 

Penny nodded soberly. “ It’ll be—funny,” he 
agreed. “I don’t suppose you’ll quite under¬ 
stand it, Thayer, but—well, this school is more 
like a real home than any other place I know. You 
see, my mother died a long while ago; I was just 
a toddler then; and my father married again. 
Then, when I was eleven, he died and now I live 
with my stepmother and her brother. He’s not 
a bad sort of man, Uncle Steve. I just call him 
uncle, of course. But my stepmother never liked 
me much, and then, besides, father didn’t leave 
much money when he died and she sort of feels 
that she can’t afford to pay my education. I’ve 
always had to fight to get back here every year. 
Uncle Steve helped me some, but he’s kind of 
scared of ma and doesn’t dare say much. That’s 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEB 285 

why school seems like home. When I go back 
to Parkerstown it’s more like going on a visit 
than going home. And after this year it’s going 
to seem funny, unless I go to college.'' 

“ But you are going, aren't you! " asked Clint 
anxiously. 

“ If I can. Mr. Fernald says he’s hoping to 
get me a scholarship that will pretty nearly see me 
through my freshman year, but there's nothing 
certain about it, because there are always a lot 
of folks after those scholarships and there aren't 
very many of them. I guess that's about the only 
way I '11 manage it.'' 

“ I do hope you get it," said Clint with genuine 
sympathy. “ I suppose you couldn’t—couldn’t 
find any way to work through, Durkin." 

“ I've thought of that. I don’t know. I've done 
pretty well here, buying and selling all kinds of 
things. You wouldn't think there'd be much 
money in it, would you I But since my second year 
I've done a lot of it and made nearly enough each 
year to pay my tuition. That's the only way I've 
been able to, stay. I guess ma argued that I'd 
cost her less at school, making most of the money 
myself, than I would at home. Fellows sometimes 
call me a ‘ Yankee ' and a 4 Shylock ' and things 
like that because I try to get all the money I can 


286 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


for a thing. But I’ve never cheated anyone; and 
—and I’ve really needed the money. But I don’t 
believe a fellow could do that in college. There 
might be another way, though. I’ve heard of fel¬ 
lows making a lot of money in college.” 

“ Seems to me,” said Clint, ^ it’s your step¬ 
mother’s duty to look after you and pay for your 
schooling. It’s your father’s money she’s using, 
isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes, but there’s not a great deal of it, I sup¬ 
pose. I never knew how much he did leave. And 
ma’s fond of nice things and it costs a good deal 
to live, I guess. Oh, if I can get that scholarship 
I’ll be all right. You see, though, don’t you, why 
I didn’t want to scrap with Dreer? It might have 
just queered everything for me.” 

“ Yes, I see,” asserted Clint. “ You did the 
right thing. You’d have been mighty silly to risk 
it, Durkin. What about playing? You—you play 
pretty well, don’t you? Couldn’t you make any 
money that way? ” 

“ No.” Penny shook his head. “ I don’t play 
well enough. You see, I’ve kept thinking that 
some day I’d be able to get instruction, but I 
never have yet; except a few lessons a fellow in 
Parkerstown gave me one Summer. I just scrape; 
that’s all.” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 287 

“I’ve always thought,” fibbed Clint stoutly, 
“that you played finely!” 

“ I’ve always thought I could if I’d had instruc¬ 
tion,” replied Penny wistfully. “ I sort of love 

it. Maybe some day-” His voice dwindled 

into silence, and for several minutes the two boys, 
each busy with their separate thoughts, stared 
through the bare branches up to the blue afternoon 
sky. They were aroused from their dreaming by 
the sound of voices and rustling of leaves under 
the feet of the speakers. Clint, peering around, 
saw Harmon Dreer, and another boy whom he 
didn’t know by sight, climbing the slope toward 
them. 


CHAPTER XXII 


DREER LOOKS ON 

“ There's Dreer now/' said Clint softly. 

“ And Beaufort/' added Penny. 

“ Who's he? " 

“ He lives the other side of the village. His 
father owned a lot of land around here and made 
heaps of money selling it off. They call him 
‘ Babe ' Beaufort; this fellow, I mean, not his 
father; probably because he's so big." 

4 4 He looks like a w T alrus," commented Clint. 
Further confidences were impossible, for the ap¬ 
proaching couple were now within earshot and 
had caught sight of the boys by the rock. Dreer 
spoke to Beaufort softly and the latter turned 
a quick, curious look toward the boys under the 
ledge. Then, without speaking, they passed on 
up the hill and out of sight amongst the trees. 
Penny gave a sigh of relief. 

“ He’s a scrapper, and I thought maybe Dreer 
would try to start something," said Penny. 

“Who is? Beaufort?" 

“ Yes, he's a sort of village bully. He’s been 
288 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 289 

m trouble two or three times. His father has so 
much money ‘ Babe ’ thinks he’s the whole thing 
in Brimfield. He and Hatherton Williams had a 
row in front of the post-office a couple of years 
ago and it took the whole police force to separate 
them . 9 9 

“ What does the Brimfield police force consist 
of? asked Clint with a laugh. “ One constable 
with a tin star? 99 

“ Two,” replied Penny, smiling. “ We were 
sorry the cops butted in, for Williams would have 
given him a fine licking, I guess. He’s just the 
sort of chap Dreer would naturally take up with.” 

“ Listen! ” commanded Clint. “ They’re com¬ 
ing back, I guess.” 

Someone was certainly approaching down the 
hill. Penny frowned. 

“ If it is they,” said Clint anxiously, “ don’t 
have any words with them, Durkin.” 

“ Not me,” replied Penny resolutely. “ Can’t 
afford to.” 

Just then Dreer and his friend came into sight. 
Clint watched hopefully. They were headed 
straight down the slope and he was just going to 
lean his head back against the rock again when 
Beaufort suddenly hunched his shoulders and 
turned angrily toward Clint and Penny. 


290 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

“ Here! ” he shouted. “ What did you do that 
for? ” 

“ Do what? ” asked Clint in genuine sur¬ 
prise as Beaufort and Dreer, the latter a good 
pace behind, strode toward them through the 
trees. 

“ You know what,” replied “ Babe ” Beaufort 
with an ugly scowl that increased his resemblance 
to a ferocious walrus. “ You shied a stone at 
me!” His eyes, however, fixed themselves on 
Penny. 

“ Shied a stone!” exclaimed Clint incredu¬ 
lously. “ Why, we haven’t moved. Besides, 
there aren’t any stones around here. And we 
couldn’t have thrown one through the trees if we’d 
tried. ’ ’ 

“ You keep out of this,” said Beaufort. 
“ When I want a lawyer I’ll hire one. This fel¬ 
low here threw it and I saw him.” 

“ Oh, no, you didn’t,” contradicted Clint, “ for 
I was looking and your head was turned away 
until you jumped. There wasn’t any stone 
thrown, and you know it. You’re just trying to 
pick a scrap, Beaufort.” 

“ Call me a liar, do you? I’ll attend to you 
w T hen I’m through with this long-haired galoot! ” 
Beaufort contemptuously kicked Penny’s shoe. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 291 

Get up and fight, yon! Yon can’t shy rocks 
at me and get away with it! ’ ’ 

Penny had so far said nothing, but, although 
there was a gravely amused smile on his thin face, 
his eyes held a dangerous sparkle. 

“ It can’t be done, Beaufort,” he answered. 

I’m not fighting today. You come around the 
day after school closes in the Spring and I’ll talk 
with you.” 

“ You’re a coward,” sneered the big youth. 
“ You’ll either get up and fight or I’ll kick you 
down the bank! ” 

Clint was too angry now to remain longer 
diplomatic. u You’re a fine one, Dreer,” he de¬ 
clared hotly. u Why don’t you fight your own 
battles and not bring a hired bully to do it for 
you? ” 

“ Hired bully! ” exploded Beaufort, who was 
working himself into a fine imitation of a rage. 
“ For two cents I’d knock your head off, you 
fresh kid! ” 

Harmon Dreer only smirked. “ It’s no busi¬ 
ness of mine,” he said. “ If you fellows throw 
stones you’ve got to take the consequences, 
Thayer. ’ ’ 

“ When we do, we will, but you know well 
enough we didn’t throw a stone, Dreer. You’re 


292 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


picking on Durkin because Byrd knocked you 
down the other day. Why don't you go after 
him if you want trouble? " 

“You keep out of this," said Beaufort. Then, 
turning to Penny again, “ Will you get up and 
take your licking? " he demanded. 

“ No, he won't! " exclaimed Clint, jumping to 
his feet. “ If you've got to fight someone, you 
fight me, you big overgrown bully! " 

“ Shut up, Thayer." Penny pulled his long 
length from the ground. “ This is none of your 
business." 

“I’m making it my business," replied Clint 
hotly. “You keep out of it, Durkin. I'll look 
after this fellow. If he wants a scrap he can have 
it.'' Clint peeled off his coat and tossed it aside. 

But Penny calmly and good-naturedly thrust 
him away. “ It's my row, Thayer," he said. 
“ Thanks, just the same." He took off his coat 
and vest, exposing a pair of purple cotton sus¬ 
penders. “ Throw those down somewhere, will 
you? Look out for the watch in the vest." 

“ Don’t be a fool, Durkin," begged Clint. 
“ You can see it’s a put-up job! Let me attend to 
it, won’t you? " 

Penny shook his head. “ No, I've got to do it," 
he answered. He turned to Dreer. “ Will you 





“No, he won’t!” exclaimed Clint, 


jumping to his feet 






LEFT TACKLE THAYER 293 

promise to keep mum about this? ” he asked. “ If 
you don’t promise, I won’t fight.” 

“ It’s nothing to me,” muttered Dreer, main¬ 
taining a safe position. 

“ All right. Remember that. If I ever find 
you’ve spoken of it I’ll half kill you, Dreer! ” 

< ‘ I guess I’d have something to say about that,’’ 
said Dreer, blustering weakly. Beaufort cut in 
impatiently. 

“ Aw, stow the gab! ” he said. He tossed his 
coat aside and skimmed his cap after it. “ Come 
on, you runt, and take your medicine! ’ ’ 

For answer Penny sprang forward and landed 
a blow on Beaufort’s shoulder that almost upset 
him because of its unexpectedness. Beaufort 
grunted angrily and swung back. But Penny was 
quick on his feet and handy with his arms and the 
blow was blocked, and Beaufort’s jab with his left 
fell short. There was little space between the 
trees and the ledge, and what there was was 
uneven and covered with leaves which made the 
footing uncertain. It was long-distance sparring 
for a minute, during which time the two boys, 
watching each other intently, stepped back and 
forth across the little clearing, feinting and 
backing. 

Beaufort looked to be fully eighteen and was 


294 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


heavily built, with wide shoulders and hips and a 
deep chest. Clint, studying him, felt that one of 
his blows from the shoulder, if it landed, would 
be more than enough for poor Penny. Penny was 
of the same apparent age, but he was thin and 
fragile looking beside the other. And yet he was 
certainly quicker of movement and had an advan¬ 
tage in reach, and there was a certain careful pre¬ 
cision about Penny’s movements that encouraged 
Clint. Dreer had moved well away from the scene 
and was looking on with eager, excited face, a cruel 
smile twisting his thin lips. 

Suddenly Beaufort lunged forward with his 
right and then shot his second under Penny’s 
guard. The blow sent the latter staggering 
against a tree. Fortunately, though, it had landed 
on his ribs, and after the first instant of breath¬ 
lessness, during which he managed to side-step 
further punishment, he showed no damage. Again 
Beaufort feinted and swung, but this time Penny 
sprang back out of the way. Then, before the 
other could recover, he went into him, left, right 
and left again, and Beaufort gave way. Only one 
blow took effect, but that reached the bigger boy’s 
face and brought a veritable howl of rage from 
him. Like a windmill, thick arms swinging, he 
bored in to Penny. The latter retreated, guarding 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


295 


well, but Beaufort’s blows were heavy ones, the 
ground was slippery with fallen leaves, and Penny, 
missing his footing, measured his length, his head 
narrowly escaping collision with a tree as he fell. 
With a grunt of triumph, Beaufort sprang toward 
him and aimed a blow. But Clint, boiling with 
rage, dashed between. 

‘ ‘ Let him up! ” he cried. 

“ Get away! ” growled Beaufort, leading at 
Clint. Clint swung his shoulders aside and the 
blow passed harmlessly. Penny scrambled to his 
feet. 

“ My fight, Beaufort! ” he panted. “ Let him 
alone! ” 

Beaufort turned to Penny again, and again they 
went at it. It was in-fighting now. Short, quick 
jabs for the face and head followed each other in 
rapid succession. Then they clinched, Beaufort’s 
stout right arm holding Penny against him and 
his left fist seeking lodgment against Penny’s face. 
But Penny, squirming, kept his head down and the 
blows fell harmlessly on his skull. Then, wrench¬ 
ing himself free, Penny stumbled out of the way, 
pale and dizzy. Beaufort plunged toward him 
again wildly. Penny stood still then. A feint at 
the stomach, and Beaufort for an instant dropped 
his guard. Then, and it all happened too quickly 


296 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER. 


for Clint to follow, Penny's left shot out, there was 
a grunt from Beaufort, another lightning-like blow 
straight from Penny’s shoulder and the bully 
went down on his back, one big leg waving in air 
as he tumbled. And in the same instant a voice, 
cold and measured, broke the stillness. 

“ Durkin! That’s enough of that! ” 

Mr. Daley and Mr. Conklin stepped onto the 


scene. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


CLINT HAS STAGE-FRIGHT 

The instructor and the physical director had ap¬ 
proached without a sound of warning, and Penny, 
Clint and Dreer, the latter exhibiting an evident 
desire to efface himself, stared in surprise for a 
moment. And at the same time Beaufort, rais¬ 
ing himself weakly on one elbow, gazed bewil- 
deredly from Penny to the faces of the new¬ 
comers. 

“I’m not through,’’ he muttered thickly. 
“ Wait—a minute! ” 

“ I think you are through, Beaufort,” said Mr. 
Daley coldly. “ Pick up your coat, please, and put 
it on. Durkin, do the same.” 

Silently they obeyed, Mr. Conklin helping the 
dazed Beaufort to his unsteady feet. He had a 
bleeding nose and one eye looked far from its best. 
For his part, Penny, although evidently dis¬ 
tressed, showed only a bruised cheek. 

“ Don’t go, Dreer,” said Mr. Daley. Dreer 
halted in his elaborately uninterested departure. 
“ Now, then, boys, what does this mean? Don’t 
297 


298 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


you know that fighting is barred here ? And don’t 
you think that, if you had to try to kill each other 
like two wild animals, you might—er—have 
chosen some day other than the Sabbath? ” 

No one had any reply to make. “ Well,” con¬ 
tinued the instructor in his careful way, “ why 
don’t you—er—say something? Who began this 
and what was it about? ” 

“ Durkin shied a stone at us as we were going 
down the hill,” said Dreer, “ and when we told 
him to stop it he—he wanted to fight.” 

“ That was the way of it, Beaufort? ” 

“ Aw, find out,” growled Beaufort. “ I don’t 
have to account to you for what I do.” 

“ Keep a civil tongue, Beaufort,” counselled 
Mr. Conklin, “ or it may prove bad for you, my 
boy.” 

“ You’ve been told before that you must keep 
off school property,” said Mr. Daley, otherwise 
known as “ Horace.” 

“ I’m not on school property,” replied Beau¬ 
fort defiantly. 

“ You’re not now, but you have been or you 
wouldn’t be here. After this kindly remain away 
from the school entirely. We’ve had trouble with 
you before.” 

“ Sure and you’ll have more if you get gay,” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


299 


answered the other with a grin. “ When anyone 
throws stones at my head he gets licked for it.” 

“ Did yon do that, Durkin! ” 

“ No, sir,” replied Penny quietly. “ Thayer 
and I were lying under the rock here when those 
fellows came up the hill. They saw us and went 
on up. Then, pretty soon, they came down again 
and Beaufort pretended I’d thrown a stone at him 
and came over here and insisted on a scrap.” 

“ Pretended you threw it! What for! ” 

“ Oh, it’s some of Dreer’s funny work,” replied 
Penny. “ He had it in for me because—for some¬ 
thing that happened a while back, and he got 
Beaufort to pick a quarrel with me.” 

“ What was the something that happened, 
Durkin! ” 

“ I’d rather not say, Mr. Daley. It—it had 
nothing to do with this.” 

“ What do you say, Thayer! ” 

“ Penny’s told it just the way it happened, sir. 
Beaufort wanted to tight and Penny wouldn’t until 
Beaufort made him. There wasn’t any stone 
thrown, Mr. Daley. ’ ’ 

Mr. Daley looked puzzled. “ Well,” he said, 
“ you’d better all return to hall for the rest of 
the day. You’ll—er—you’ll probably hear from 
this later.” Beaufort took his departure non- 


300 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

chalantly, whistling as he made his way through 
the woods. Dreer stood not on the order of his 
going, but was over the wall almost before the 
instructor had finished speaking. Penny and Clint 
followed more leisurely, leaving Mr. Daley and 
Mr. Conklin in possession of the field of battle. 
They too, however, presently continued their in¬ 
terrupted walk. 

“ What do you make of it, Jim? ” asked Mr. 
Daley. Mr. Conklin smiled and shook his head. 

“ Oh, I fancy Durkin told it straight. It’s some 
private feud we happened on. Too bad we didn’t 
follow our first intention and go toward the vil¬ 
lage.” 

Mr. Daley looked doubtful. “ I’m sorry about 
Durkin,” he said regretfully. “ Mr. Fernald has 
been trying to secure a scholarship for him at one 
of the colleges, and this—er—affair will, I fear, 
displease him. ’ ’ 

Mr. Conklin shot a quick glance at the other. 
“ Oh, so you think you’ll have to report it, 
eh? ” 

“ Naturally ! ” 

“ Hm. Well, all right. Only it somehow seems 
to me that as they were off of school property and 
were settling an affair in a perfectly regular way 
it might be overlooked without any harm, Horace. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 301 

You know best, of course. That’s just my 
notion. ’ ’ 

“ But that would be encouraging fighting here, 
Jim, and you know what the rules are. I—I wish 
I might—er—forget it, but I don’t think I con¬ 
scientiously can. ’ ’ 

Mr. Conklin nodded. After a moment he said, 
with a chuckle: 4 ‘ That was a clever punch of 
Durkin’s. I’m glad we got there for the knock¬ 
out/’ 

‘ ‘ Durkin appeared much lighter than Beaufort, 
too,” replied Mr. Daley, unwilling admiration in 
his voice. “ I wonder how he happens to be so 
—er—clever. ’ ’ 

“ Because he took boxing lessons with me for 
two years,” answered Mr. Conklin unhesitatingly. 
a We used to have boxing, you know. That was 
before your time, though. I remember now that 
Durkin, although a mere kid, was very quick and 
took to it like a duck to water. It was a great mis¬ 
take to abolish boxing. There’s no better exercise, 
and none more useful.” 

“ But doesn’t it—er—encourage just this sort 
of thing? ” asked Mr. Daley, with a backward tilt 
of his head. 

4 ‘ Not a bit,” replied the other stoutly. “ On 
the contrary, if a boy can put on a pair of gloves 


302 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


and harmlessly pound another boy about a bit— 
or get pounded about—it satisfies the desire for 
fistic encounter that’s a part of every fellow’s 
make-up, and he’s a lot less likely to be quarrel¬ 
some. Besides, Horace, it’s a fine exercise for the 
body and brain and eyes.” 

“ Brain? ” questioned Mr. Daley smilingly. 

“ Undoubtedly! Try it some time and see if 
it isn’t. You’ve got to think quick, look quick 
and act quick. If I had my way boxing would be 
compulsory, by George! ” 

Mr. Daley shook his head doubtfully. “You 
may be right,” he said, “ but it seems to me that 
teaching a boy how to fight is going to make him 
want to. That’s the way it goes with other 
things, Jim. Give a boy lessons in swimming 
and he wants to swim; teach him—er—how to 
jump-” 

“ Teach him how to box and he wants to box. 
Certainly, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to 
go around picking quarrels and fighting with bare 
fists. You might as well say that learning to fence 
makes you want to go out and stab folks with a 
rapier! And look at the evidence presented awhile 
ago. Beaufort undoubtedly picked that quarrel. 
There can’t be any doubt of that. We know his 
record. Beaufort, I’ll wager, never took a boxing 



LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


303 


lesson in his life. He showed it. The chap who 
knew how to box, Durkin, had to be forced to 
fight.’ ’ 

“ You’ll convince me in a minute,” laughed Mr. 
Daley, “ that if I want to keep out of trouble I’ll 
have to learn to use my fists! ” 

“ It would be a good thing if you did,” re¬ 
sponded the other. “ Come over to the gym some 
afternoon and have a go at it! ” 

“ That would be setting a fine example, wouldn’t 
it? ” 

“ As a matter of fact, it would,” replied Mr. 
Conklin earnestly. “ I wish I could convince 
Fernald of it! ” 

Meanwhile, Clint and Penny, both chastened and 
uneasy, were reviewing the episode in Penny’s 
room. 

“ I suppose he will report it,” said Penny. 
“ If he does, and Mr. Fernald believes Dreer’s 
story, it’ll cost me that scholarship.” 

“ I don’t see why he should believe Dreer any 
more than you and me,” Clint objected. 

“ I’m afraid he will want to. He hates to have 
fellows fight. I’m glad you kept out of it, any¬ 
way.” 

“ I’m not! It wouldn’t have made so much dif¬ 
ference with me, Durkin.” 


304 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


“You might have been put on probation, 
Thayer, and that would have kept you off the 
football team.” 

“Probation just for—for that?” exclaimed the 
other incredulously. 

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” replied Penny. 
“Josh is rabid on the subject. Well, there’s no 
use crying over spilled milk. And, anyhow, I’m 
glad I did it! Only I wish it had been Dreer in¬ 
stead of Beaufort!” 

“So do I,” muttered Clint. 

Amy, when he heard of it, was devastated with 
sorrow. ‘ ‘ And I wasn’t there! ” he wailed. ‘ ‘ Just 
my silly luck! Tell me about it. You say Penny 
knocked him out?” 

The next forenoon the summons came from the 
Office and at twelve o’clock Penny, Clint and 
Dreer were admitted to the inner sanctuary one 
at a time and grilled by Mr. Fernald. Penny’s 
forebodings were none too dismal, as events 
proved. Probation was awarded to Penny and 
Dreer, while Clint was unmercifully lectured. 
Unfortunately, their sense of honour kept both 
Penny and Clint silent as to the underlying cause 
of the affair, and the principal’s efforts to find 
out why Dreer should have set Beaufort to pick 
a quarrel with Penny, as both Penny and Clint 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 


305 


claimed, were unsuccessful. Naturally enough, 
Dreer himself failed to throw light on this matter. 
Mr. Fernald refused to believe that any boy would 
deliberately seek the help of another to administer 
punishment to a third. He was willing to exon¬ 
erate Penny and Clint from the charge of throw¬ 
ing stones, but insisted that it always took two to 
make a quarrel and that if Penny had chosen to 
observe the rules of the school he could have done 
so. For his part, Clint left the inner office feeling 
that he had been extremely lucky to have escaped 
hanging or life imprisonment, to say nothing of 
probation! Poor Penny was pretty downcast. 
Amy was furious and declared his intention of 
going to Mr. Fernald and telling the real truth of 
the whole affair. But Penny wouldn’t listen to 
that. 

44 You can’t do it, Byrd,” he said. 

44 Why can’t IV ’ Amy demanded. 

44 Because it wouldn’t be decent,” replied Penny 
earnestly. 44 You know that. A fellow can’t— 
can’t tell tales, you see.” 

44 But, hang it all, you’re letting Dreer get away 
with it! He busted your fiddle and set Beaufort 
on you and all he gets is a month’s pro! And he 
doesn’t care whether he’s on pro or not. It 
doesn’t make any difference to him. You’re the 


306 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


one who’s getting the short end of it. You’re 
losing your scholarship as sure as shooting!” 

“Yes, but a fellow can’t blab,” still insisted 
Penny. 

Amy argued and stormed and threatened to go 
into Number 15 and knock Harmon Dreer into a 
cocked-hat, but in the end he had to subside. 
Penny insisted on taking his medicine. 

Clint was as sorry as possible for Penny, but 
he didn’t have much time for sympathy. With 
practice on Monday afternoon football affairs at 
Brimfield started on their last lap. Only Mon¬ 
day, Tuesday and Wednesday were left for real 
work. After that only signal practice and black¬ 
board lectures remained. Andy Miller showed up 
again, and with him two other coaches who had 
absented themselves for a few days, and life be¬ 
came once more terrifically strenuous for the ’var¬ 
sity players. Saunders got back into practice that 
afternoon, but it was plain that his injury still 
inconvenienced him and he was not allowed to 
take part in the forty-five-minute scrimmage. 
Clint held down the left tackle position and held 
it down pretty well. Altnough he had no sus¬ 
picion of it, his performance that afternoon set¬ 
tled definitely his status, and on the way to the 
gymnasium afterwards Mr! Detweiler ranged 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 307 

himself alongside, slid an arm over Clint’s shoul¬ 
der and said: 

“Thayer, we’re going to play you on Saturday. 
Saunders isn’t in shape, I’m sorry to say, and 
won’t be able to do more than take your place for 
awhile if necessary. You’ve done well. I want 
to give you credit for that. You’re not a perfect 
tackle yet, my boy, but we’ve all got hopes of you 
and we expect you to give a good account of your¬ 
self against Claflin. And I expect to see you play 
better Saturday by fifty per cent than you’ve 
played yet. How do you feel about it?” 

Clint couldn’t have said just how he did feel, 
and was relieved when, seeing his embarrassment, 
Mr. Detweiler went on encouragingly. “What¬ 
ever you do, don’t get scared. Just remember 
that, while winning from Claflin is a bigger thing 
than winning from any other team we’ve met, 
Claflin isn’t very different, after all. They may 
play a little better football, but they’re just as 
liable to make mistakes, just as liable to go to 
pieces in a pinch. Make up your mind that we’ve 
got a better team than they have and that we’re 
going to everlastingly smear them! And then go 
ahead and prove it. You’ll be up against a good 
man on attack, this fellow Terrill, but don’t let 
that make you nervous. Remember that he’s prob- 


308 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


ably just as much afraid of you as you are of him, 
Thayer. If you can get around him a couple of 
times at the start you’ll have him on the run for 
the rest of the game. So jump into him the 
minute the game begins and let him see that he’s 
up against a real hard proposition. Meanwhile, 
do your level best to smooth down your playing. 
You’ve got the right ideas; just develop them. 
Make them go. Put a little more hump into your 
work. You’ll find you can do about twice as well 
as you’ve been doing, if you put your mind on it. 
And remember too, Thayer, that I’m looking to 
you to vindicate my choice of you. Don’t give 
anyone a chance to say after the game that I’d 
have done better if I’d picked Cupples or Trow 
for the place. All right. Take care of yourself.” 
And Mr. Detweiler gave Clint a parting thump at 
the gymnasium door. 

Events passed at an amazing speed for the next 
few days. Clint moved at times in a waking 
dream, and Amy, tapping his head significantly, 
spoke to him soothingly and hoped that the 
trouble would not prove permanent. Clint had a 
way of suddenly waking, at the most inopportune 
moments, to the fact that he was due to play left 
tackle on the Brimfield Football Team against 
Claflin School in a few days, and when he did he 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


309 


invariably experienced an appalling sick feeling 
at the pit of his stomach and became for the mo¬ 
ment incapable of speech or action. When this 
occurred in class during, say, a faltering elucida¬ 
tion of the Iliad, it produced anything but a fa¬ 
vourable impression on the instructor. Fortu¬ 
nately, while actually engaged in out-guessing Lee, 
of the second, or breaking through the none too 
vulnerable Pryme, or racing down the field under 
one of Harris’s punts, he had no time to think of 
it and so was spared the mortification of sus¬ 
pended animation at what would have been a most 
unfortunate time. His appetite became decidedly 
capricious. And the capriciousness increased as 
Saturday drew near. Also, the sinking sensations 
to which he had become a prey attacked him more 
often. He drove Amy to despair by predicting all 
sorts of direful things. He was sure that he 
wouldn’t be able to do anything with Terrill, the 
Claflin right end. He was morally certain that he 
was going to disgrace himself and the school. He 
was even inclined to think, rather hopefully, as 
it seemed to Amy, that he would be taken vio¬ 
lently ill before Saturday. 

“You’ll make me ill!” declared Amy. “Hon¬ 
est, Clint, you talk like a demented duck! Buck 
up! What’s the matter with you? Anyone would 


310 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


think you were going to be hung Saturday instead 
of play football!” 

“I almost wish I were,” murmured Clint de¬ 
jectedly. 

But if Clint was troubled with forebodings, not 
so the school at large. Enthusiastic mass-meet¬ 
ings were held alternate evenings and the new 
songs were rehearsed and the cheers which were 
to bring terror to the enemy were thundered with 
a mighty zest. Brimfield refused to even con¬ 
sider defeat. Parades became a frequent pro¬ 
ceeding. By Wednesday it was only necessary 
for a fellow to step out on The Row and shout 
“Brimfield!” to have a procession form almost 
instantly! 

The last practice took place Wednesday after¬ 
noon and for a solid forty-five minutes the Var¬ 
sity did its level best to totally annihilate the 
second team, and almost succeeded. Things went 
with a most encouraging bang that day. Even 
Coach Robey was seen to smile, which, during 
practice, was a most extraordinary thing for him 
to do. The Varsity had to work for what it got, 
but got it. Three touchdowns and a field-goal 
was the sum of its attainment, while the second, 
fighting fiercely, managed to push Otis over for 
a score in the third period. Afterward the sec- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 311 

ond cheered the Varsity, was heartily cheered in 
return and then trotted back to the gymnasium 
no longer existent as a team. 

The most enthusiastic meeting of the Fall was 
held that evening and was followed by a very 
riotous parade during which much red-fire was 
set off. The procession invaded the village and 
brought the inhabitants to their doors in alarm. 
It paused at Coach Robey’s boarding place and 
cheered and demanded a speech. Coach Robey, 
however, was not at home. Neither was Mr. Det- 
weiler, to whose abode the fellows next made their 
way. But they didn’t care much. They greatly 
preferred hearing themselves to listening to any¬ 
thing the coaches might have to say. Finally they 
returned to Main Hall, indulged in one final burst 
of tumult and disbanded. Clint, hearkening from 
his room, where, quite alone, he was supposed to 
be diligently pursuing his studies, had another 
and worse attack of nerves! 

There was signal practice Thursday for a short 
time in the afternoon, and in the evening a black¬ 
board talk in the gymnasium. After that Clint 
returned to Torrence and made believe study until 
he could crawl into bed. Amy did what he could 
to take his mind from football, but his efforts 
were not very successful. Just when he thought 


312 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


he had Clint thoroughly interested in his conversa¬ 
tion Clint would give a sudden start and blurt 
out: “ I ’ll never remember the signals, Amy! I 
know I won’t!” or “Gee, I wish it was over!” 

Those were trying times in Number 14. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


iisr the enemy’s countey 

And then, suddenly, it was Saturday morn¬ 
ing! 

Clint, rousing from disturbed, uneasy slumber, 
stared at a patch of sunlight shimmering on the 
white ceiling and tried for just that moment that 
lies between sleep and consciousness to account 
for the fluttering condition of his nerves, the sense 
of impending doom that lay like a dark shadow at 
the back of his brain. Then full recollection came, 
his heart turned completely over twice, raced like 
a propeller out of water and sank dejectedly to 
somewhere near the pit of his stomach. After 
that he was very, very wide awake. 

He turned and looked enviously at Amy, who, 
one bare arm over his touselled head, slept on 
untroubledly. A door banged in the corridor, the 
sound of rushing water came from the bathroom 
at the end, someone across the way began to sing 
“Tipperary” joyously, and through the open 
window came the shrill voice of an early First 
Former: 


313 


314 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


‘ ‘Hi, Terry! Terry Brainard! Oh, Ter-ryV’ 

Clint would have liked to have buried his head 
in the pillow and gone back to sleep and slept 
until—well, say five o’clock that afternoon. For 
by five o’clock the Claflin game would be over 
with. But even a five-minute cat-nap was denied 
him by restless nerves, and, after a moment or 
two, he put his legs out and sat up yawning, 
feeling strangely tired and listless. His bath 
helped some, however, and later on he was sur¬ 
prised to find that as long as he kept his mind 
off the game he was able to do full justice to a 
chop, two soft-boiled eggs, three slices of toast, 
a dish of stewed apricots, a baked potato and 
three glasses of milk! After that he felt better 
still! 

There was a studied effort on the part of the 
players to keep away from the subject of football 
that morning. Many of the fellows looked 
nervous and drawn, and said little. Others were, 
or appeared to be, in high spirits, and laughed a 
good deal and rather stridently, and talked loudly 
of all kinds of things—except football. Jack Innes 
was even more quiet than usual and almost jumped 
out of his chair when a boy at the next table 
dropped a knife on the floor. 

There were no recitations after eleven that day. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 315 

There might just as well have been none before 
that, for it’s quite useless to expect a boy to put 
his mind on his studies only a few hours before 
the Big Game! At eleven the Varsity players 
and substitutes assembled at the gymnasium and, 
escorted by Mr. Detweiler and Mr. Boutelle, took 
a walk across the fields and hills at an even 
though moderate pace. They were back a little 
before twelve. Dinner was at noon, and by a 
quarter to one they were climbing into coaches in 
front of Main Hall and at one-eight they, together 
with most of the school, were pulling out of the 
Brimfield station on their journey to Westplains, 
twelve miles distant. 

Claflin was an older school than Brimfield and 
had a much larger enrolment. Until last year 
the Blue had won three football games from the 
Maroon-and-Grey, all, in fact, that the two schools 
had played together. Last year the tide had 
turned and Brimfield had nosed out her rival by 
one touchdown. This year—well, what was to 
happen this year was still on the lap of the gods, 
but Brimfield set out confident of victory. 

Coaches met the players at the Westplains sta¬ 
tion and rolled them away along the tree-lined, 
winding road to the school, while the rest of the 
Brimfield invaders followed on foot or, if their 


316 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


pockets afforded it and they hankered for luxury, 
in the little station-wagons which, patriotically 
decorated with blue bunting and flags, sought 
patronage. 

Claflin School was set down in the very middle 
of the town, a quiet, rambling, overgrown village 
too near New York to ever become more than a 
residence place. The school was spread over many 
acres and its buildings, most of which had been 
there many years, had a look of mellow antiquity 
which the newer Brimfield halls had not had time 
to acquire. Wide-spreading elms shaded the 
walks in Summer and even today their graceful 
branches added beauty to the campus. Brimfield, 
nearly a hundred and fifty strong, took possession 
of the school grounds and went sight-seeing before 
they poured out on the further side and made their 
way to the athletic field. 

Amy and Bob Chase, pausing to translate a 
Latin inscription over the entrance to one of the 
buildings, became detached from the others and 
were discovered by Mr. Detweiler, who, having 
made an unsuccessful attempt to find a college 
friend who was instructing at Claflin, was on his 
way to the gymnasium. He listened, unseen, for 
a moment to Amy’s extremely literal and pic¬ 
turesque translation, and then a laugh revealed 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 317 

his presence and Amy looked around a bit sheep¬ 
ishly. 

4 ‘ That ’s fine, Byrd, ’ ’ said Mr. Detweiler. ‘ ‘ You 
certainly reflect credit on ‘Uncle Sim’!” 

“I guess,’’ observed Bob Chase, “ ‘Uncle Sim’ 
would have had a fit if he’d heard that!” 

They strolled on together, speaking of the 
buildings they passed, until, opposite the gym¬ 
nasium, Mr. Detweiler started to leave them, 
thought better of it and said: ‘ ‘ By the way, Byrd, 
I wonder if I was pledged to secrecy the other 
day. ’ ’ 

‘'The other day?” repeated Amy questioningly. 

“The day I met you and Thayer and-” He 

looked doubtfully at Chase. 

“Bob’s all right,” Amy reassured him. “I 
know when you mean, sir. But I don’t under¬ 
stand about being pledged-” 

“ I ’ll tell you. ’ ’ Mr. Detweiler looked hurriedly 
at his watch. “I happened to hear from Mr. 
Daley yesterday that your friend Durkin had got 
in trouble. You knew that?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, it seemed that Mr. Fernald thought 
Durkin had either picked the quarrel or—well, 
we ’ll say welcomed it. Daley told me Durkin was 
on probation and stood a pretty fair chance of 


318 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


losing a scholarship he was after. So, as I hadn’t 
been, as I thought, pledged to secrecy, I told Daley 
what I knew of the start of the trouble. That 
seemed to put a different complexion on the matter 
and Daley went to Mr. Fernald and told him 
about it. Since then I’ve wondered whether I 
ought to have kept my mouth closed. Do you 
mind?” 

“Not a bit,” declared Amy heartily. “I’m 
mighty glad you did tell. I wanted to, but Penny 
wouldn’t hear of it. He said it would be sneaky, 
or something like that. What—what did Mr. 
Fernald say, sir?” 

“I haven’t heard. I hope, though, he will see 
that your friend Durkin couldn’t very well avoid 
that row on Sunday. It seemed to me rather too 
bad that he should lose his chance at the scholar¬ 
ship. That is why I ‘butted in,’ Byrd.” 

“I’m very glad you did, Mr. Detweiler. I’ll 
find Penny and see if he’s heard anything. ’ ’ 

Penny, however, was very elusive, and it was 
not until a few minutes before the game started 
that Amy finally located him in the top row of the 
temporary grand-stand. Even then Amy could 
only get within shouting distance, but shouting 
distance sufficed. 

“Penny!” called Amy. “Hi, Penny!” 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


319 


Penny smiled and waved. 

‘ 4 Had any news! * ’ ^sked Amy in a confidential 
shout. 

Penny looked blank for an instant. Then a 
slow smile lighted his face and he nodded vehe¬ 
mently. 

“Yes,” he called. “This morning, Byrd! It’s 
all right about—you know!” 

4 4 Awfully glad,’ ’ replied Amy. 4 4 Mr. Detweiler 
just told me! See you after the game.” 

44 Sit down, Amy!” said a friend in the stand. 

44 Yes, clear the aisle, please, Byrd,” called an¬ 
other. 

Amy smiled and hurried back to his seat next to 
Bob Chase just as the two teams, having warmed 
up and experimented with what little breeze was 
cutting across the gridiron, withdrew to their re¬ 
spective sides of the field. A final long-drawn 
cheer for Brimfield issued from the south stand, 
was answered by a more thunderous one from 
the opposite seats, the teams lined up, the cap¬ 
tains waved their hands to the referee and 
Claflin’s left guard sent the nice new yellow ball 
arching away against the sky. 

It is to be presumed that more than one heart 
under a canvas jacket was thumping loudly at 
that moment, but I doubt if any was trying harder 


320 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


to turn somersaults than Clint Thayer’s as he 
hustled across to where Kendall was gathering 
the pigskin in his arms. But in the next moment 
Clint forgot all about his heart, forgot he even 
had one, for Kendall was plunging forward 
through the fast-gathering Claflin warriors and 
his work was cut out for him. Back to the fifteen- 
yard line went the pigskin before the referee called 
it down, and Brimfield’s supporters cheered. 

It is always something of a shock to realise that 
an event which has been dreaded for days has 
at last arrived. During that tense moment 
wherein the blue-stockinged Briggs had cuddled 
the ball into position on the tee Clint had experi¬ 
enced just such a shock. Only yesterday the 
Claflin game had been of the future, only this 
morning he had still viewed it uneasily as a thing 
impending, and now—presto!—it was here. He 
endured for a long minute more kinds of stage- 
fright than he had ever dreamed of! But action 
was a panacea for his malady, and the instant 
he thrust himself in the path of a plunging Claflin 
man, felt the impact of the hard-muscled body 
against him, recovered and fell into his place in 
the quickly-formed wedge of interference, the 
thrill of battle drove out fear. 

Now Marvin was calling his signals, the Brim- 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 321 

field forwards were poising themselves for the 
assault, and Clint, >hands on the ground, feet 
apart, head up, was watching every movement of 
his opponent. And, simultaneously with the snap¬ 
ping of the ball, he was lunging upward and for¬ 
ward with both hands, all the muscles of his tense 
body behind that quick thrust, and the Claflin op¬ 
ponent, caught unawares, spun sideways and 
crashed into his guard, while Harris, the ball 
clutched to his stomach, smashed through and past 
and, stumbling, twisting, panting, pushed three 
yards of turf behind him before the Claflin backs 
pulled him down. 

And so it went until Brimfield, taking the enemy 
by surprise, had won her way to the thirty-seven 
yards. There someone mistook the signals, three 
yards were lost on second down, and, with seven 
to go, Harris punted high and far. Clint found 
his opponents too much for him that time and 
was hurled aside. Claflin caught on her thirty- 
three and ran back six. 

Then Clint had a chance to prove himself on 
the defence, and prove himself he did on the sec¬ 
ond play. The renowned Terrill, striving to draw 
Clint out from his guard, suddenly found himself 
nicely fooled, and Clint, swinging through inside, 
smeared the play well behind the Claflin line. 


322 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


There was a vast feeling of satisfaction when his 
arms wrapped themselves around the legs of that 
blue-stockinged left half and held like a vise. The 
fact that a vengeful Claflin forward dropped his 
hundred-and-seventy pounds on Clint’s neck 
didn’t matter a mite! 

It was nip and tuck for the rest of that first 
period. Claflin regularly made from four to eight 
yards on three plays and then punted. Brimfield 
made similar gains and punted. Kendall missed 
a catch and recovered the ball for a ten-yard loss. 
To equalise things, Ainsmith of Claflin fumbled 
for almost as much. The quarter ended with the 
ball in Brimfield’s possession in the middle of the 
field. 

In the second period Marvin began to work the 
ends, sending St. Clair and Kendall around the 
wings for short gains. Once, when Kendall, al¬ 
most stopped, wriggled himself free and dashed 
on along the side line, the Brimfield supporters 
leaped to their feet in the stand with ecstatic 
visions of a touchdown dancing before their eyes. 
But Kendall was forced out on Claflin’s thirty- 
five yards and the yells of triumph subsided. 
From there Harris made it first down through a 
hole as wide as a door in the centre of the Claflin 
line, reeling off twelve yards before he was upset. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYEK 323 

The Blue’s centre-rush was hurt in that encounter 
and a substitute took his place. Marvin tested 
the new man on the next play, but Kendall was 
stopped. A second attempt, with Harris plung¬ 
ing straight ahead from kicking position, pro¬ 
duced three yards. St. Clair slid off left tackle 
for two more and Harris punted to the Blue’s 
twelve yards. A penalty for off-side brought the 
hall back to the seventeen. Claflin rounded Ed¬ 
wards for six yards, pounded Clint for two more, 
was held on the next down and punted to the 
Maroon-and-Grey’s forty-seven. There Marvin 
caught and was toppled in his tracks. Roberts 
was hurt in a missed tackle and Coach Robey sent 
Holt in. 

Both teams had slowed up in their playing now, 
for the pace had been unusually fast. Claflin was 
caught holding and the ball went once more into 
her own territory. Harris and Kendall hammered 
the tackles for a first down and St. Clair got off 
around the right end for seven yards more. Mar¬ 
vin fumbled and Harris fell on the ball. Harris 
punted to a corner of the field and the hall rolled 
out at the fifteen yards. Claflin braced then and 
pushed through for a first down, following it with 
a long forward-pass that took the pigskin to her 
forty-three yards. A fake-kick failed to gain and 


324 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


her full-back was brought up standing when he 
tried Jack Innes’s position. A punt was caught 
by Kendall on his twenty-five-yard line and, be¬ 
hind good interference, he dashed back nearly ten 
before he was nailed. St. Clair made three off 
the Blue’s right tackle and Marvin kicked from 
position, the ball rolling past the Claflin quarter 
to his thirty-yard line, where he managed to se¬ 
cure it just an instant before Steve Edwards 
reached him. Two tries netted but four yards 
and a punt followed. Marvin caught near mid- 
field and the half ended. 

The teams had shown themselves to be very 
evenly matched in all departments of the game. 
On offence Brimfield had done a trifle better, if 
we except the forward-pass made by her adver¬ 
sary, the only one so far attempted by either side. 
On defence Claflin had proved no stronger than 
the Maroon-and-Grey. In punting, Harris, for 
Brimfield, and Wentworth, for Claflin, had shown 
about the same ability, what advantage there 
might be being in favour of Harris, whose punts 
had been a little better placed. So far it was any¬ 
body’s game, and the rival schools, during the 
intermission, sang and cheered loudly and con¬ 
fidently. 

In the locker-room at the gymnasium Mr. Robey 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


325 


and the assistant coaches dealt praise and censure 
and instruction. Several of the fellows had been 
pretty well played out at the end of the half. 
Claflin had paid a good deal of attention to the 
centre of Brimfield’s line—later it transpired that 
rumours had reached Westplains to the effect that 
Brimfield’s centre trio were weak on defence— 
and both Captain Innes and Hall were rather bat¬ 
tered up. Blaisdell had come out of it with less 
punishment. There were no injuries of moment, 
however, even Roberts, whose shoulder had been 
bruised, being ready to go back. As the time to 
return to the field approached Mr. Robey called 
for attention. 

“I want to tell you fellows/’ he said quietly, 
“that you’ve played well. You’ve done as much 
as I’d hoped you’d do. You’ve held Claflin away 
from your goal, and in doing that you’ve done a 
good deal, for you’ve been up against as fine a 
Blue team as they’ve ever got together. But from 
now on you’ve got to have punch, fellows. 
You’ve got to play faster and harder. Claflin 
will try everything she knows. She isn’t beaten, 
not by a whole lot, and she’s going to come back 
hard. I want to see improvement in the back- 
field in this half. You backs haven’t helped the 
forwards as you’ve been taught to do and as you 


326 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

can do. You’ve let the runner have an extra yard 
or two yards time and again. Go in hard and 
stop the man before he gets clear. You’ve been 
waiting for him to come to you. Don’t do that. 
Go in and meet him. Every inch counts. Now, 
then, let’s see what you can do for Brimfield this 
time. Play hard. When you tackle, stop your 
man. When you block, block hard and long. Put 
every ounce of strength into the game from now 
on and I’ll promise you that you’ll take that foot¬ 
ball back to Brimfield with you!” 

Claflin had made four changes in her line-up 
when the teams faced each other again, and Brim¬ 
field two. On the latter team Carmine was at 
quarter and Gafferty had taken Tom Hall’s place 
at right guard. Roberts was back in his position 
at the right end of the line. Jack Innes settled 
the ball on the mound of earth, glanced over his 
team, cried 4 ‘Ready, sir!” stepped forward and 
punted obliquely across the field toward the 
Claflin stand. The second half was on and the 
laurel of victory was still to be won. 


CHAPTER XXV 


VICTORY! 

That oblique kick-off had been prearranged and 
by the time the Claflin right guard had called it 
his the Maroon-and Grey forwards were down on 
him. His frantic attempt to gather the ball into 
his arms failed and it bounded away toward the 
side line. Blaisdell fell on it a foot from the mark 
and Brimfield shouted joyfully. From Claflin’s 
thirty-six yards to her twenty the Brimfield backs 
carried the pigskin. There Roberts was caught 
holding and the Maroon-and-Grey was set back. 
Harris fell back as if to kick and threw forward 
to Roberts on Claflin ’s twelve. Roberts caught, 
but was stopped for no more gain. The Brimfield 
stand cheered hoarsely and unceasingly, the cheer¬ 
leaders never letting up for a moment. Harris 
plugged the Claflin centre for two, St. Clair got 
three around left tackle and Harris made it first 
down on the Blue ’s two yards directly in front of 
goal by a criss-cross play through right guard. 
Brimfield went crazy then and cries of ‘ ‘Touch- 
327 


328 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


down! Touchdown! Touchdown!” thundered 
across from the stand. 

Carmine and Captain Innes conferred. St. 
Clair was chosen to try the right tackle. But there 
was no hole there and he lost a yard. Harris 
banged out less than two feet at right guard. St. 
Clair again tried right tackle and got through for 
one. Harris fell back to kick. The stands quieted. 
Innes passed low and Harris took too much time. 
The ball bounded away from an upstretched 
hand and Carmine fell on it at the twenty-two 
yards. 

Once more Brimfield took up the journey. A 
forward-pass to Edwards went short and Clint 
knocked it out of the eager hands of a Claflin 
player. Two attempts by Kendall advanced the 
ball but four yards and Harris again went back 
to kicking position. He was on the twenty-six 
yards and just to the left of the goal and Brim- 
field fully expected a score. But when the ball 
went to him he tucked it under his arm and shot 
to the left in an effort to skirt the end. The 
attempt just failed to gain the distance and the 
ball went to Claflin on downs. The maroon-and- 
grey flags that a moment before had been waving 
riotously now wilted dejectedly. 

Claflin failed to gain on two downs and punted 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 329 

short to midfield, where Carmine caught and 
eluded half the enemy before he was forced over 
the side line for a gain of eight yards. The ball 
was paced in at Claflin’s forty-six and Kendall, 
from kick formation, got nine outside right tackle, 
Clint opening the hole. Harris made it first down. 
A forward-pass, Carmine to Edwards, grounded. 
Carmine took the ball for four through centre, St. 
Clair failed to gain and Harris punted to the 
Blue's five-yard line. Wentworth made a fair- 
catch and punted on second down, after a plunge 
at right tackle had netted two yards. Kendall 
caught and was stopped for no gain. 

The ball was on Claflin’s forty-six yards. 
Harris, on a delayed pass play, made three out¬ 
side left tackle and Kendall got away for seven 
and first down. Kendall again got free around 
the left of the Blue’s line and reeled off six more 
before he was tackled. He was hurt and Freer 
took his place. The latter at once distinguished 
himself by breaking straight through the Claflin 
left guard for five yards, and it was first down 
again on the Blue’s twenty-five. 

It seemed now that nothing was going to stop 
the Brimfield machine short of the goal line, for 
the offence it was showing was far superior to 
anything exhibited that afternoon by either team. 


330 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


Claflin was proving weaker at the ends of her 
line than expected and her tackles were showing 
the strain. The end of the period sounded after 
Freer had been stopped for a yard. 

Claflin put in a new right guard and a fresh 
right tackle and returned two of her former men 
to the line. Coach Robey sent Hall back, but 
made no other change. The teams doffed blankets 
once more and again faced each other on the 
Blue’s twenty-four yards. 

Claflin hoped for nothing better, perhaps, than 
a no-score result, foFher attack had several times 
failed to get under way and her opponent seemed 
to be gaining strength rather than losing it. Car¬ 
mine, acting under instructions from Coach 
Robey, now opened up his bag of tricks. A long 
side-pass to Edwards, followed by a forward 
heave to Roberts, across the field, brought the 
Maroon-and-Grey supporters leaping to their 
feet, for Roberts caught the long pass high in 
the air, dodged a frantic Claflin end and raced 
straight toward the goal line. Only the fact that 
he slipped near the ten-yard line prevented a 
score then and there. That instant’s falter 
brought the enemy down on him and, although he 
managed to squirm forward another yard, he was 
stopped. But it looked a short distance from the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 331 

nine yards to the final white line, and Brimfield 
implored a touchdown. 

Harris was hurled against the desperate blue 
line and made a scant two yards, and was found 
threshing his arms about when the players were 
torn apart. Time was taken out and, after the 
full-back had been administered to, he was sup¬ 
ported to the bench and the eager Rollins can¬ 
tered on. Again came a bewildering trick-play, 
with a delayed pass from Innes to Freer and a 
straight dash at the line by St. Clair after a short 
lateral pass. But, although Claflin’s forwards 
faltered, the secondary defence came to the rescue 
and St. Clair gained only two yards. It was third 
down now, with five to go, and from both sides of 
the gridiron came the imploring shout of the rival 
“rooters.” Brimfield chanted “Touchdown! 
Touchdown!” and Claflin hoarsely begged her 
warriors to “Hold ’em, Claflin! Hold ’em, 
Claflin!” 

And Claflin held them! 

With Harris out of the line-up, Carmine hesi¬ 
tated to try a field-goal, and when, after another 
yard and a half had been gained by Freer, the 
goal line was still almost four yards away, he 
risked all on a forward-pass. Edwards managed 
to sneak into position beyond the goal line, but 


332 LEFT TACKLE THAYER 

Carmine’s toss went wide and Claflin fell on the 
ball back of the post. Bine flags waved wildly 
then, while, across the dimming field, the Brim- 
field stand was silent and disappointed. 

Six minutes still remained of that final quarter, 
however, and the Maroon-and-Grey took courage 
again. When the teams lined up once more Still 
was at left half, Trow at right tackle and Thursby 
had taken Jack Innes’s place. Claflin played des¬ 
perately then and, almost before Brimfield real¬ 
ised it, had reached the middle of the field. Trow 
was weak and several gains were made past him. 
Thursby, too, had not found his pace. Claflin suc¬ 
ceeded with a short forward-pass and twice made 
five- and six-yard gains around the Brimfield 
right end. But at the fifty-yard line the Blue’s 
advance was halted and Claflin was forced to punt. 
The kick was short and high and went out near 
the Maroon-and-Grey’s thirty-yard line. Carmine 
hurled Freer at the centre for four, the same 
player slid off left tackle for three more and Car¬ 
mine himself made it first down on a wide end- 
run. Once more Brimfield took up its journey 
toward the distant goal line. 

Lateral passes, forward passes, delayed plays, 
all were used and all gained something, while 
Freer and Still and Freer again slid past the 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


333 


tackles, Carmine shot through here and there like 
a jack rabbit and the slower-moving Rollins 
bucked the line for less spectacular gains. Past 
the centre of the field rolled the Maroon-and-Grey, 
past the forty yards, past the thirty. Claflin 
fought tooth and nail, despairingly, desperately, 
longing for the whistle that should announce the 
end. 

Just past the thirty-yard line Brimfield had a 
setback and her progress was halted when Gaf- 
ferty was caught off-side. It became second down 
then with fifteen to go and Rollins trotted back 
up the field and held his arms out. But Claflin 
wasn’t looking for a punt on second down and so 
was not deceived as to her opponent’s intentions. 
What did deceive her, though, was the play that 
came off. For the ball was snapped to Freer, and 
Freer, after running across the field, passed back 
to Carmine and that youth, twisting on his heel, 
dashed straight into the confusion of friend and 
foe, dodging, feinting, twisting, and emerged on 
the other side and raced on for the goal line. But 
near the twenty he was brought low by a Claflin 
back, and it was third down and a half-yard to 
go. Carmine pantingly demanded the time. The 
answer was two minutes. 

It was Still who got the necessary half-yard, 


334 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


together with a yard more for good measure. 
Claflin halted the game while an injured right end 
was nursed back to an interest in life, and in that 
interim Coach Robey sent in three substitutes. 
Sherrard went in for Edwards, Holt for Roberts, 
and Saunders, limping a little, took the place of 
Trow at right tackle. Clint had his head-guard 
ready to hand over when he saw Saunders trot on 
and was more than surprised when the former left 
tackle passed him by and laid his hand on Trow’s 
arm. Holt evidently brought a message from 
Coach Robey, for fie dragged Carmine back and 
whispered to him. What the instructions were 
was soon apparent, for when the whistle shrilled 
again the Maroon-and-Grey began a relentless 
hammering of the Blue’s left side, hurling her 
backs at guard and tackle, and, although Claflin 
sent her backs to the rescue of the beleaguered for¬ 
wards, the gains came consistently and grew 
longer and longer. The Maroomand-Grey, on the 
eight yards now, was again demanding sur¬ 
render. 

Clint, with a swollen mouth and a piece of dirty 
surgeon’s plaster running slantwise above his 
right eye, panting for breath, bathed in perspira¬ 
tion, watched his adversary as Carmine yelped 
his signals again. Only eight yards to go and 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


335 


four downs to do it in. Clint scented victory and 
his nerves grew tense as he waited. Then he was 
pushing and wrenching and once more the hole 
was opened wide and once more Freer, playing 
like a wildcat, smashed past him. Clint followed 
through, met a Claflin back and sent him stag¬ 
gering aside. Freer, tackled but still lighting, 
dragged himself on and on. And then the unex¬ 
pected happened. 

“Ball!” 

The shout came frantically from somewhere 
and Clint saw the pigskin, squeezed from the half¬ 
back ’s arms, bound into air. A blue-sleeved arm 
shot toward it, and another, but the ball, bouncing 
away from an eager hand, went, turning lazily 
over and over in its flight, toward the side line. 
Clint turned swiftly and pursued, elbowed by 
others. He shot an arm out to the left and cleared 
his path. Cries and pounding footsteps came to 
his ears. Away rolled the ball, spurning the five- 
yard line, seemingly bent on trickling out of 
bounds. A blue-jerseyed player tried to edge past 
Clint, but the latter swung in front of him. Then 
he was on the ball, and up again with it tucked 
against his stomach, and was plunging toward the 
goal line, a scant six yards away! A Claflin man 
dived at him and strove to pinion his knees, but 


336 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


with a wrench Clint tore one leg free and stag¬ 
gered on another stride. Arms clutched him 
about the shoulders and it seemed that he was 
pulling a ton of weight with him. Then there was 
a shock, his legs went from under him and he 
toppled to earth. But as he fell, and as the last 
breath in his body seemed to leave him forever, 
he pushed the ball away from him at arm ’s length 
and set his fingers about it like so many vises! 
And that was the last he knew. 

When he opened his eyes he was being sloshed 
with water from a Mg, smelly sponge, and the 
trainer’s little green eyes were above his. 

“What is it?” he asked dazedly. 

“It’s a touchdown, my boy! A touchdown by 
a bare two inches! And how do you feel ? ’’ 

Clint smiled as he closed his eyes again for 
a moment and became aware that the sound which 
had before seemed like the pounding of surf on the 
shore was the steady cheering of Brimfield’s sup¬ 
porters. “I feel—all right,” he answered, “and 
—and for the love of mud take that beastly sponge 
out of my mouth! ’ 9 

The trainer chuckled, and at that instant the 
cheering rose to a new height of intensity. 

“What’s that?” asked Clint, struggling to get 
up. 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 337 

“Rollins kicked goal,” was the answer. “Lie 
still a minute, boy.’’ 

“Then—then we’ve won?” exclaimed Clint, 
realisation of victory pouring over him like a 
wave and setting his heart to thumping. 

“We have; seven to nothing; and there goes 
the whistle and it’s all over for another year, 
thank Heaven! And now you’d best get on your 
feet, for they’ll be after you in a minute!” 

And they were, a score of them, with Amy in 
the lead, Amy laughing and jubilant and devil- 
may-care ! And Clint, protesting, still a bit faint 
and pale, but immeasurably happy, was lifted to 
willing shoulders from where, a little vaguely, he 
looked down upon a sea of frantically cheering 
youths who waved maroon-and-grey banners and 
behaved in the time-honoured custom of the con¬ 
queror. 

i 1 Gangway! ’ ’ shouted Amy. ‘ 1 Hold tight, Clint! 
Here we go, fellows! Gangway! ’ ’ 

Clint’s bearers broke into a shambling run, and 
Clint, clutching tightly at Amy’s neck, lurched 
and bobbed dizzily as they hurried across the field. 
For an instant he caught a view of the gravely 
pleased countenance of Penny Durkin. Penny 
waved and was lost to sight again. Other faces 
he knew swam past him. Smiles and shouts and 


338 


LEFT TACKLE THAYER 


waving hands greeted him. Other players, caught 
before escape was possible, were swaying about 
in front of the stand where Brimfield was form¬ 
ing into a procession to march in triumph about 
the trampled field of battle. Straight for the head 
of the parade scuttled Amy and his cohorts. 
“Gangway!” babbled Amy. “Let us through 
here!” 

“Amy!” remonstrated Clint. “Let me down, 
you crazy Indian! I—I’m tired! ’ * 

“Let you down!” cried Amy incredulously. 
“Not much! You’re a bloomin’ hero, Clint, and 
you’ve got to act the part. You’re the chap who 
knocked the Taf’ out of Claflin! Hold your head 
up now and look like Napoleon!” 

“But, Amy, honest-” 

“Shut up and don’t queer the show! Gang¬ 
way! Gangway for Left Tackle Thayer!” 


THE END 



















' 



































































































































































































































































